


Number Theory

by LydiaLovestruck



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Het and Slash, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-02-27 23:35:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 74,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2710796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaLovestruck/pseuds/LydiaLovestruck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus Lupin has had a rather interesting sex life. Let's explore some of it, shall we?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Her Name was Lola, She was a Show Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a long-ago Lusty Month of Moony challenge on LJ, this series is comprised of thirty-one episodes in the love (and sex) life of Remus Lupin. Each episode of varying length contains sex of some kind, and a lot of kinky stuff gets explored in various degrees from straight-up gay sex to BDSM to bestiality to a love of stuffed animals. The entire series may be read in the order written and originally posted, or it may be read in chronological order (but you'll have to figure that part out yourself). Contains fluff, angst, romance and humor. Explicit rating is for overall work.

The first time Moony had sex he was, well, Moony. A stray dog had wandered into the Forbidden Forest one moonlit night. Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail hadn’t been able to keep Moony away from the sleek bitch in literal heat. It was the first time the werewolf had threatened his compatriots, in fact, and after a few low growls and a nervous chittering, the animagi let the wolf sniff after the lost Borzoi.

She was a beautiful animal. Long, silky hair (matted from tramping through underbrush). Slender nose (stained a bit with mud). Perfect lines (slender and strong as the best of her breed). She sensed his approach, whined a bit, then watched Moony strut back and forth in front of her, salivating at her scent. The bitch backed away a step, then two, clearly confused at the creature in front of her, but loneliness and need will do what candy and flowers cannot, and scant moments passed as she considered and then surrendered.

Moony sniffed, growled, mounted, and humped his heart out, whining and singing to the glorious moon above. His curious friends approached the thicket, then stopped, collectively horrified and yet, entranced. Their Moony, their friend, their confidant of five years running, was mindlessly pumping a rather engorged, glistening cock into the body of someone’s pampered pet. 

The rat squeaked and chewed at his paws. The stag shifted his hooves nervously. The black dog whimpered, rolled over and licked his own balls; grateful he could do it, and surprised he’d never thought to do so before.

Not even five minutes passed before the Borzoi began to struggle out from under the lycanthrope’s heavy weight, her pointed nose in the air, dragging Moony along behind her, forcing him to hop on his hind legs. He struggled, yipped, then growled menacingly – and the Borzoi promptly collapsed to the ground, an exhausted Moony draped across her back. Another ten minutes passed before the bitch reattempted her escape. Another growl, a nip to the neck, and the process repeated.

It was over an hour before the Borzoi finally managed to disengage and crawl out from under the lycanthrope’s heavy weight. Moony howled a bit mournfully as she scampered toward the village, then bent around to lick himself clean of her.

Sometimes Remus remembered what he did during the full moons, and sometimes he wished he could forget. Sorting out that particular night would take him years. However, it took Sirius and James only a few days before they could look him square in the eye. However, Peter never lost that furtive blush…


	2. What's It All About, Moony?

In Remus’s second year at Hogwarts, he realized just how grateful he was to have friends as smart and kind as James, Sirius and Peter.

Waking up from a terribly exciting dream – something about someone’s head between his thighs – and as he turned in his sheets to roll onto his back, he felt… something… else. He’d never paid that much attention to his privates before. His mother explained to him about proper hygiene when he was very small, but that was the extent of his concern for _that_ part of him. _Down there_. He knew what other boys called it, but those names always seemed rather crude. In any case, _It_ had never done anything _unusual_ before. 

Before that morning. After that dream.

_It_ was swollen and a little sticky. Had he peed the bed? Horribly embarrassed, he could only pretend to be sick so he wouldn’t have to get up with the others. It might have worked, except for Sirius’s determination that they all try out for the Quidditch team that day.

“No laying about, Moony!” Sirius shouted. “Time to get up! Can’t make the team if you can’t even show up for try outs!” With those words of encouragement, Sirius grabbed hold of Remus’s sheets and pulled them onto the floor.

Remus almost squeaked with humiliation, his hands flying to protect the evidence by pushing his nightshirt down around his hips. _It_ was still swollen. They couldn’t see for themselves. Maybe he could blame it on his lycanthropy? Would they believe him?

Sirius stared for a moment, then shook his head with disgust before pulling on his robe. Remus wasn’t sure his friend had noticed, but he wasn’t taking chances, either. He rolled over swiftly onto his stomach and squirmed a bit on the mattress, hoping against hope that by rubbing his groin into the bed, he’d wipe off the mess and no one would see. That didn’t seem to be quite what was happening, however.

Then Peter started to giggle. “Someone had a _dream_ last night,” he announced in a sing-song voice.

“What are you talking about?” James asked, stretching. He was already half-dressed, but he paused to clean his glasses and frown at the chubby boy.

Peter pointed at Remus. “Remus had a _dream_ last night. Look!”

“Peter! Shut up!” Remus wasn’t sure what dreaming had to do with peeing the bed, but he knew enough to try to get Peter to stop talking. “I’ll hex you,” he threatened.

Peter just laughed. Sirius strode forward, curiosity peaking. “What’s going on? What are you on about? Moony? What’s he talking about?”

The humiliation burned. Summoning his Gryffindor courage, Remus groaned, “I think I’m sick.”

At the same time, Peter, in all his inimitable glory, crowed, “Moony had a wet dream! Moony had a wet dream!”

The first thing Sirius did was grab up Remus’s sheets. He held the top sheet up to the light. A clear stain showed through. Sirius dropped the sheet, howling with laughter, bending over from the force of his guffaws. James started to laugh, too, but something in Remus’s posture, whether it was the tension in his shoulders or the fact that his face was buried in his pillows, gave him pause enough to say, “Cut it out, you two. What were you doing looking at his crotch, anyway, Peter? Fucking pervert, that’s what you are!”

Stunned, Peter immediately stopped laughing, an expression of confused humiliation coming across his face. “James, what? What are you-? No!”

Sirius, already helpless with laughter, began to wheeze. “Stop it! Stop it!” he managed, his face turning an unpleasant shade of red. He waved a hand at James before collapsing onto the floor, tears running down his cheeks.

Remus started to feel a little better. He should have known James would stand up for him. He turned his face toward his friend, caught his eye and smiled gratefully. James winked.

“Come on, you rotters,” James shouted. “Let’s go. Quidditch try-outs wait not for man nor beast. Grab your brooms and let’s be off!”

Peter gulped, diving for his robe and stuffing his feet in his shoes. Sirius sobered enough to finish dressing. He grabbed his broom and hustled Peter out the door in front of him, somehow knowing that James wanted to linger a bit longer with Remus alone. He caught James’s eye when he left.

“I’ll see you on the pitch, then?”

James nodded and waved Sirius on ahead. When the door shut, James moved to sit on the edge of Remus’s bed. “You all right there?” he asked gently.

Remus groaned. “I messed my pants,” he mumbled into the pillow.

“Didn’t quite hear you, mate,” James said, leaning closer.

Remus huffed a bit and repeated himself.

“That’s what I thought,” James said, nodding sagely. “A wet dream, it is. Like Peter said. Or as my dad calls it, a ‘nocturnal emission.’ My mum would say you’d been visited by a succubus, but my mum’s a bit old-fashioned.”

Remus blinked. That hadn’t occurred to him. “I thought,” he said, turning to face toward James again, “that succubae only went after, well, men?”

James grinned and shoved at Remus’s hip. “Are we not men?” He laughed. “Must’ve been some dream, though.”

“I guess.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember it?” James gaped. “That’s the best part!”

“You’ve had them, too?”

“Oh, sure,” he replied. “Lots of times. Started last June. I have about two or three a week. Sometimes,” and here he gave a little wink and another nudge, “I help it along a bit, if you know what I mean.”

Now Remus was too curious to care if James saw the mess in his drawers. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on, Moony. Don’t make me draw you a picture!”

Remus frowned. “Of what? I don’t understand.”

James made a fist and pumped it in the air, quite fast, back and forth, then stopped to look at Remus as if to say, ‘get it now?’

Remus shrugged and held out hands, nonverbally replying, ‘no.’

Sighing, James moved his fist to his hips and pumped it again. Flushing bright pink, he stared at Remus again.

Utterly confused, Remus made a fist and moved it to his own hips, then pumped it in the way James had shown him. He still didn’t understand.

Groaning with frustration and flushed with embarrassment, James stood and grabbed his broomstick and his robe. He hesitated a moment, opened his mouth, shut it again, then shook his head. “Get dressed,” he said, “and meet us on the pitch. I know you’re not really wanting to try out, but it’ll look strange if you’re not there. When I leave, though… try that thing again… with your fist… but do it without clothes on. And think about your dream. You’ll… see what I mean.” Unable to look at Remus any more after that, he fled the room. Remus heard his footsteps pounding down the staircase.

No one would be coming back for a long while, but they did have plans for after. They were going to explore the castle’s uppermost floor. The boys had made it personal goals to step foot in every possible room and hallway and alcove and storage space in the entire school before they sat their NEWTs. Peter had the brilliant idea of making a map, so they’d know where they’d been and, in case the school changed things around on them, they’d have some kind of proof.

He’d have to leave sometime. There was no getting out of it, and truthfully, Remus didn’t want to miss out on any fun. He rolled off the bed and headed for the showers. Then James’s words echoed in his mind. Feeling slightly foolish, Remus glanced around the room. No, no one was here. They’d all left and the door hadn’t opened again after that, and wasn’t that James’s invisibility cloak peeking out from his trunk? No. He was alone.

Remus moved back to his bed, to his ‘space’ as he thought of it, and dropped his nightshirt. Standing nude in an empty room shouldn’t have felt as illicit as it did. He looked down at his… at _It_. Something looked different. Fascinated, Remus noticed a single brown hair sticking out of his skin, right there, on the pouch-y part. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he pulled at the hair. It hurt. He poked at the pouch-y part. Yes, those marble-y whatevers were still in there. Deep in the furthermost reaches of his brain, he dared to whisper, ‘bollocks,’ and poked at them some more.

He knew that, in his wolf form, he could bend down and lick himself there. He knew that, as a wolf, he enjoyed it. It was Necessary. But as a regular boy, it was never something he considered doing and the idea of it vaguely disgusted him. Vaguely. Not so much now. He wondered what his wolf-side found so fascinating.

He poked the fleshy part again and then… _It_ twitched. _It_ moved! _It_ came alive!! He certainly wasn’t _making_ it do that… was he? The tip of _It_ started stretching out past the collar of skin like a sausage squeezing out of its casing. Slightly disturbed and the tiniest bit intrigued, Remus poked the emerging tip. It felt… odd, but in a pleasant sort of way. He poked it again. _It_ got a bit longer, a bit harder, and his stomach started to hurt, but in a similar sort of oddly pleasant way.

Funny, he wasn’t hungry and he wasn’t sick, so…?

James’s words came back to him once more and put his hand into a fist and started pumping and then, like Helen Keller at the well, it all made sense. Remus wrapped _It_ in his palm and began to stroke wildly.

It hurt at first, his dry palm sliding along surprisingly tender skin, but then he found a rhythm that reminded him of his dream and that dark head bobbing between his legs and he lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes. It only took a few minutes before white stuff began spurting out of his – out of his – out of his _It_ and-and it felt… remarkably like casting a powerful spell or flying a broom. A spatter of the white stuff caught on his chin, startling him enough to stop rubbing himself. He stared at the white stuff decorating his hand and his stomach. It was just like the stuff on the bed.

What the hell was that stuff?

The other boys knew what it was, he reminded himself. Or at least, Peter and James did. James said it happened to him a lot. Remus trusted James. He was the first one Remus had ever wanted to share his secret with and the first one to tell Remus that his lycanthropy wouldn’t stand in the way of their friendship. If James said it was normal, and even that it was desirable, then it was true.

Maybe he should try it again!

He grabbed his… his _thing_ and started pumping fast, figuring it was like pumping water, but nothing happened this time. For a wild moment he panicked. Had he broken It? Was that possible?

No, no. That couldn’t be possible. James said he’d done it lots of times. Maybe he should just leave it alone for now and just try it again later. That seemed sensible.

Remus stood up and then bent over to get his nightshirt. He wiped off his hands and decided to go for a shower first. He’d drop by the Great Hall for a takeaway breakfast before heading out to the pitch. Maybe he’d get to see his friends’ try outs. He wasn’t sure if they’d all make the team. Peter was decent enough on a broom, but he just wasn’t as confident as Sirius was, or as talented as James. Would it be all right if he were the only one not on the house team?

As the hot water began streaming over his body, washing away the stains of his morning’s discoveries, he decided that, as long as he had still his friends, such things wouldn’t matter. They accepted him, lycanthropy, ‘wet dreams’ and all. He smiled. He was the luckiest boy in the world.

And then he wondered if he’d just figured out why his wolf-half so enjoyed licking himself.


	3. Scents and Scents Ability

The third time Remus used the special lubrication charm Sirius demonstrated for everyone that night after the first Quidditch game of the season (Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff, 290-220), he put a bit too much ‘swish’ and not enough ‘flick’ into his wand movement and went to Ancient Runes in squishy drawers. He hadn’t thought that a quick wank after lunch could go wrong, but then, didn’t everything go wrong when it came to Ancient Runes? For not only did the professor assign monthly class projects, but she required the students to work in teams of two as well. None of Remus’s friends took the class; they’d all signed up for Divination instead. The girls in the class paired off with each other. The other boys all seemed to have their best friends in the class. That left Remus to pair up with…

…Severus Snape.

It wasn’t like Snape was a bad student, or that he didn’t do his fair share of the work. It wasn’t even like he possessed disgusting habits or bore offensive odors. All things being equal, Remus couldn’t have asked for a better Runes partner.

But all things were not equal. Snape hated Remus’s friends, and Remus’s friends hated Snape.

Remus supposed he hated Snape, too, but it was hard to remember that when the two of them were forced to work together or fail the class. Neither relished the idea of receiving a ‘troll’ grade on their reports, so they soldiered on, communicating strictly in terms of Runes and never venturing into personal areas.

Until that one class when Remus scuttled in shortly after the bell, face flushed and pants squishy. He hurriedly took his seat, in the back row next to Snape. The professor merely gave him a reproachful look, which Remus accepted, and then continued assigning the daily classwork.

Snape leaned slightly toward Remus. “Something amiss, Lupin?” he asked.

“No, nothing,” Remus lied.

Snape shrugged. They opened their books, took out their parchments and quills, and started the first problem. Remus clenched his jaw and did his best to concentrate.

The wonderful thing about Sirius’s lubrication charm was that the lubricant did not rub into the skin easily, if at all. It made wanking a long-term pleasure, Sirius claimed, because you did not have to stop to recast the charm. A man could wank for hours, he said, and never lose that ‘slickery’ feel true connoisseurs of the masturbatory arts preferred.

The terrible thing about Sirius’s lubrication charm was that the lubricant did not rub into the skin easily, if at all, and when improperly cast, kept oozing. Remus had spent several minutes in the boys’ lavatory trying to wipe off, rinse off and hex off the charm, to no avail. He could feel it, even now, pooling in his underwear, making his balls itch.

He shifted in his seat, hoping against all hope that no one would notice, that any smell wasn’t attracting anyone’s attention, that the sound of skin sliding wetly against skin wasn’t making that rather distinctive noise that it was indeed making and that Snape was not really giving him those curious sidelong looks every five seconds.

Oh, gods.

He had to know. Remus focused on his paper. He’d only written half of the first problem down. He glanced at Snape’s parchment. He was on number four already.

He shifted in his seat, heard the _squelch-squelch_ of his cock in his shorts and considered begging the professor for a bathroom pass.

“Something is wrong, Lupin,” Snape finally said in a discreet whisper. “And I think I know what it is.”

Remus let his eyes close. Whether it was the fact that he had just gotten off not ten minutes prior, or that the lubrication charm was still in effect and feeling just the tiniest bit of truly pleasant on his cock, or his overactive teenage hormones or the husky sound of Snape’s voice or even the other boy’s nearness that did it, but he felt himself grow suddenly and irrevocably erect.

Now, Remus had gotten erections in class before. He’d been assured by both observation and hearing Peter squeak about it that it happened to other boys, too. It didn’t happen often to him, though, for which he was glad, but it was definitely happening now.

“What do you think it is then, Snape?” Remus inquired, striving for an innocent tone.

“I think you know,” Snape replied with a snicker.

“If that’s your answer, then you probably don’t know,” Remus said pertly. “You’re just guessing something’s wrong and you’re hoping you can fake me out or something. Well, it’s not going to work because there is nothing wrong.” He fought with himself not to squirm once more. His underpants were becoming decidedly soaked. He thought he could feel goo start to crawl up the crack between his arsecheeks.

Snape worked out the last equation and set his quill down on the desk. Ever so casually, he leaned sideways toward Remus while resting his cheek on his hands to hide his mouth from the others in the classroom. Softly, he said, “I do know your problem. It’s rather… erumpent.”

“’Erumpent’?” Remus repeated. “That’s not a real word.”

“Of course it is,” Snape said with an exasperated sigh. “It means ‘bursting through.’” He giggled a bit as he glanced pointedly at Remus’s lap.

Remus felt the dull flush creep up his neck. Oh, gods. He knew! How did he know? Mustering his last defenses, he said, “It’s a fold in the fabric. This robe bunches.”

Snape muffled his laughter by stuffing his fingers in his mouth and biting down. Remus stared at him, momentarily distracted by the sight. Part of him dismissed the unnecessary drama of the gesture, while part of him saw the reddened lips surrounding long slender appendages and supplied an image or two of the more personal variety. Snape may have noticed Remus’s rapt attention, for he startled slightly and withdrew his fingers from his mouth. He shifted in his own seat and Remus allowed himself to feel vindicated. He was not the only one with a problem, it seemed. He returned his attention to his work while Snape just sat forward in his seat and remained silent.

When he finished the last problem, setting his own quill down on the desk and leaning back in his chair, Snape turned toward him once more.

“What now?” Remus asked, mildly irritated.

“Nothing,” Snape said at first. Then he added, “I could help you, you know. If you like.”

“Help? With… How do you mean, ‘help’?” Alarm klaxons rang through Remus’s body. Every sense screamed at him not to trust the Slytherin student. Still, he was curious enough to listen as Snape replied.

“With your _problem_.”

“What do you propose?” Remus heard Sirius and James’s voices in his head, telling him to give Snape enough rope to hang himself, to never offer up anything that might turn and bite him later.

Snape lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “What would you like me to propose?”

“Nu-uh,” Remus said immediately. “No good. You go first.”

“Some Gryffindor you are.”

“Enough to know better than to trust a Slytherin.”

“Fine. Be that way. I won’t help you. You can stew in your _juices_ all day long, for all I care.”

It took Remus a moment to realize that it certainly seemed like Snape knew _exactly_ what his problem was and therefore, maybe Snape might know how to remove the lubrication charm, and maybe he could actually be helpful, and maybe he should give the other boy a little more credit, but the professor spoke up then and began to go over the assignment. When class was over, Snape bolted from the room. Remus did not get the chance to speak to him.

Instead, Remus waited for the other students to leave the classroom. He took an extra-long time reassembling his books, putting away his quill and ink, and gathering everything into his arms before standing and walking out. He called a cheerful ‘good-bye’ to the professor and hurried back to the Gryffindor dorms, taking care to keep fluffing his robe out from his body so it wouldn’t stick to anything in front or back.

Along the way, Peter jumped out at him from a classroom. “Oi, Moony! Got a minute? I’ve just found-“

“No time, Peter!” Remus replied, breezing past, hoping against hope his socks would absorb the liquid oozing down his legs.

Once in the common room, he found Sirius busily showing off to some Second Year girls.

“-and then I- oh! Hey there, Moony. What’s up?”

“I need speak to you! Privately.”

Sirius followed Remus into their dorm room. Remus quickly outlined his problem. Sirius swiftly dissolved into laughter.

“I don’t believe it! Let me see! Let me see – this is too funny!”

Knowing he’d never get Sirius to help him if he didn’t show him, Remus removed his robe. His underpants were sopping wet. Lubricant ran freely down his thighs. His pants bulged a bit, but Remus figured he could play that off to an excess of goo, rather than anything sexual.

Sirius grinned and removed his own robe. “Mustn’t let that go to waste,” he said, reaching forward to scrape off a handful of lubricant from Remus’s leg. “As the Muggles say, ‘waste not, want not.’”

With that, Sirius plunged his hand into his own pants and proceeded to indulge himself. He closed his eyes and lay back on his bed, moaning freely with each movement.

Remus was not amused. “Sirius! Will you help me or not?”

“Yeah, yeah. When I’m done. Promise. Oooohhh… Talking to those two downstairs… you know, they’re twins? You know what that means, don’t you, Moony? _Twins…_ Ohhh.”

The sounds Sirius was making, the knowledge of exactly what the other boy was doing, the memory of Snape’s heated whispers, the idea of what might have happened if he had acquiesced to Snape’s hinted-at suggestion, made Remus stiffen as well.

“What the hell,” he muttered. He dropped his sodden underpants onto the floor and lay down on his own bed. His first attempt to grip himself failed, however; his hand slid right off his hardened prick, flinging goo up toward the top of his four-poster. “Whoops,” he said, mildly concerned.

He tried again. Again, his hand slipped off. He was still hard, however. His feet were sweaty in his shoes, so he kicked them off. As he did so, he realized what he needed was something drier than the goo. Something to sop it up, perhaps. His eyes lit on the tissues beside his bed.

But the tissue merely deteriorated. He needed something with more heft, more absorption. He moved his feet restlessly on the bed once before it hit him: his socks.

Grinning, Remus slipped off one of his long, white socks that his mother always bought him. He first tried to wrap the tube sock around his prick, then realized it might be better to put his prick _in_ the sock itself. He tried it. It worked. It worked… deliciously.

Remus groaned, finally able to wank in peace without his hand flying off every other stroke, without flinging goo anywhere but into the sock. He began to work himself harder, twisting up at the end of every stroke so that his palm rubbed across his tip, just the way he liked it. The rough texture of the sock felt more than good and better than groovy. He was getting closer… closer…

“Oh, Merlin, Moony – that’s something else,” he heard Sirius say breathlessly.

Remus opened one eye and saw Sirius sitting up on his bed, staring at him. The other boy had already come once, the evidence still remained on Sirius’s stomach, but he was clearly aching for another go.

“Beat it, Moony. Harder. Yeah…”

Sirius kept whispering encouragement which made Moony want to slow down to enjoy every word, and obey his every directive. He beat himself harder and faster, his hips driving his cock almost through the sock.

Yeah, yeah, he thought, Sirius is watching me and getting off on it.

He rubbed harder.

And if Snape were going to help me, he could be watching, too.

Even harder.

And maybe if he were here he would touch Sirius and Sirius could touch him and they’d both be loving it, watching me. They’d both want to be doing it to me, on me, with me, in me -!

Remus shot into the tube sock.

“That was brilliant,” Sirius said, moments later, wiping his hand off on his bedspread.

They panted in syncopation for a little longer, then Remus said, “What about the charm?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sirius said with another grin. “Just cast it again.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. Same charm takes it off as puts it on. Just reverse the swishing pattern.”

“And you couldn’t just have told me that before now?”

“Nope. This way was more fun.” With that, Sirius winked, grabbed his robes and headed for the door. “Don’t be late for dinner, Moony. The elves are serving blood pudding! Mmm – your favorite!”

The door shut and Remus groaned. He despised blood pudding.


	4. The Midnight Cowboy

He’d shifted into fourth gear before he ever made it out of the city. How he loved the feel of wind in his hair, rock music on the radio and no place to be before Monday at ten AM. He had an entire weekend off – a rarity in the retail world – and he was going to enjoy it or die in the attempt, as Sirius would say.

Except that Sirius probably wasn’t saying much of anything these days.

Serves him right, Remus thought to himself. He turned up the radio even louder, singing along.

_Many miles away something crawls from the slime at the bottom of a dark Scottish lake…_

Remus knew a particularly dark Scottish lake that had many particularly slimy, crawly things in it, but he much preferred, when hearing this song, to think of the singer himself, tall and slender and blond. Yes, Remus promised himself. This weekend, he’d find himself a blond.

~~

He spied the young man almost immediately upon entering the pub. He sat with his mates in the corner holding court, laughing and smoking and drinking.

Just like we used to do, Remus thought. Only with wands in our pockets and the whole of our lives ahead. Look at them all just sitting there, believing the lie of their own immortality. Fools, all of them. He snickered to himself.

The bartender took his order and left him alone, allowing Remus to look without looking like he was looking at the blond in the corner. He noticed a dark-haired girl lean close to the blond, whisper in his ear, and the blond blushed a bit, then crowed with appreciative laughter. The blond copped a feel of the dark-haired girl’s bosom, but Remus suspected he could be persuaded. The blond had his other arm around his dodgy-looking mate, too.

When the blond got up and made for the loo, Remus followed him. He didn’t have to think about what he was going to do and he was fairly certain the blond would not say no and he _knew_ the blond was not going to raise a fuss. Remus still had his wand, after all, and casting ‘Obliviate’ on Muggles was not a punishable offense. Besides, Remus had played out this exact scenario dozens of times before and his success rate had only improved.

The blond did not say no.

Remus wasn’t sure if the blond would be any good, but as the boy’s lips stretched to surround Remus’s cock and began to suck-moan-suck-moan-suck, he decided it didn’t really matter. Perched on the seat of the single toilet, he could see his face in the cracked, stained mirror above the rust-stained sink. He rather fancied his fringe needed a trim.

Maybe he’d get one tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are from 'Synchronicity II' by The Police.


	5. Los Caballeros Dos

On Cinco de Mayo, Remus Lupin and I found ourselves in a south Texas bar in celebration of the outcome of a battle we’d never heard of, fought by armies we’d never considered before, for a cause we couldn’t care less about, in a country that had no reason to care about the battle in any way, shape or form, and he was loving it. And I was… not displeased.

“Viva le Puebla!” Remus shouted before downing yet another shot glass of that vile extraction to which he had so recently became accustomed.

Our fellow revelers, likewise crammed into this rather seedy bar, shouted back “Viva! Viva!” and “Mas tequila!”

I just focused on shoving another wedge of lime down the long neck of a bottle of yellow beer and grimaced. “Tequila,” I snarled. “Nothing more than agave juice.”

“And a beer is nothing more than fermented grain,” Remus said with an easy grin. “Your point?”

“No point,” I replied, casting cast him a quick look. “I just don’t like the taste.”

Remus grinned and clapped me on the shoulder. “That’s fine, love, just fine. Leaves more for me!” And then he tipped up the ridiculous white Stetson hat he’d procured upon our arrival in this rather dusty corner of the world, saluted the bartender and downed another shot. We’d ‘gone native’, as he’d put it, in an effort to better blend in with our Muggle surroundings. That meant, according to Remus, that we had to purchase rather snug jeans (I still say his are too tight) and long-sleeved cotton shirts and these horrible hats. Although, I must admit, the black one I chose suits me quite well.

And these boots, which I actually liked. Low-slung heel, a bit too new-looking, but certainly comfortable. Remus had wanted to get some shiny ornamentation called ‘spurs’, but I refused, ignoring the devilishly speculative look in his eye.

Tejano music blared from the jukebox in the corner of the bar. A few couples danced on a tiny cleared floor, whirling and twirling in time with the infectious music. Remus eyed them for a while. I wondered if he wanted to dance, but as I had no intention of making a spectacle of myself, I slouched a bit more on my barstool and polished off the bottle. Ted, the brown-eyed man who’d stood us our first drinks (as honored guests from a foreign land, we deserved to experience true Texan hospitality up close and personal, he’d explained), came over to us and leaned in comfortably close.

“You guys doing all right?” he asked. Ted was a decent enough sort, for a Muggle. While he was waiting for his ‘girl’ to show up, he passed the time detailing bits of local history and suggesting possible restaurants and whatnot.

Remus nodded to him. “Just great. This place…” He glanced around at the lights and the decorations, the bleached-white cattle skulls on the walls, the Mexican and Texan flags hanging from the ceiling and smiled. “It’s amazing. Is it always like this?”

“Hell, no,” Ted replied. “This is just for the holiday.”

“And what, precisely, are we celebrating?” I asked him. “Destruction and killing?”

Remus hid a grin while Ted just sort of gaped at me gormlessly. “Don’t let him bother you,” Remus confided to the American. “He gets that way when he’s drunk.”

“’m not drunk.” I wasn’t!

“Don’t argue in public, love. It’s unseemly, remember?” Remus grinned.

Ted shook his head. “Y’all sure are different, that’s for sure. Calling each other ‘love’ and all. Y’all say that in the wrong parts of this town, y’all’ll get yourselves in a heap. They’ll think you mean it.”

Remus’s grin froze. I know he felt me tense up. “We do mean it,” Remus said, keeping his voice steady. The other good thing about having to buy these ‘cowboy’ boots was that they provided a handy place to keep a wand. I dropped my hand to my side as casually as I could, ready to fight this Yank should it come to it.

“Hey, that’s fine by me,” Ted insisted, raising his hands in an innocent gesture. “I got a cousin out past Anadarko who’s gay. Folks round here don't treat him any different 'cause of it, although that could be 'cause he's one of the best bull riders there is. So don’t y’all worry about that. I’m just saying, there’s parts around here I’d be more careful, if I were y’all.” He patted us on the shoulders once more. “Just some friendly advice. Take it in the spirit intended, okay?”

“That’s fine,” Remus told him. “But we know something about being discreet. We’ll be okay.”

“All right. Y’all enjoying yourselves, then?” At our nods, he smiled. “Great. Well, I’m going now. My girl came in a while back and she’s hankering to get some, if you know what I mean. I hope you two enjoy your stay in the Lone Star State, and if I see y’all on the road, I’ll be sure to wave.”

When he was gone, Remus leaned close to me and whispered, “I’ve got a ‘hankering’, too.” He slid a hand along my thigh. “Interested?”

“Very,” I told him. “But it’s a long walk back to the hotel and we don’t dare Apparate in your present condition.”

He smirked at me, then said with suggestively wriggled eyebrows, “I was thinking… out back.”

Intrigued, I considered his proposal.

~~

“Out here?”

Remus looked around. The bar was outside city limits, apparently to avoid liquor laws, and therefore wasn’t near much of anything. The highway side was lit, of course, but the back seemed to empty out into nothingness.

“I’m sure during the day it’s a lovely view,” Remus said.

A disgusted snort was my only possible reply. I well remembered what El Paso looked like during the day.

“It doesn’t matter if you can’t see it,” he went on. “We can pretend it’s anything at all. Let’s go down this way,” he said, pointing toward a slope.

He led the way, stumbling slightly from the uneven ground and all that tequila. The quarter moon overhead provided little light, and once we pushed on far enough from the bar, we didn’t even have the neon from the building to guide us.

“This is a ravine, I think,” Remus said. “We should be hidden quite nicely from the road.”

Something ahead of us in the dark gave me pause. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

And then I heard it again. A dull _clunk-clunk_ and a snuffling breath. Ah.

“Erm…”

“It’s a cow.” 

Remus blinked, his amber eyes catching the light. A dark shape, not fifteen feet away, moved a step, two. Definitely a cow. “Is it?” he asked. “What’s it doing out? I thought cows slept indoors.”

“Maybe this is a stupid cow.”

“Maybe. There’s a fence around here, though. They’d never let a their cow just wander out to the road.”

“’They’?”

“Someone owns this cow.”

I shrugged. He grinned. “Oh! Look up!” he said, distracted again. “The stars! Have you ever seen so many stars? Besides Astronomy class, of course.”

We stood a moment, staring up into the dark sky dotted with stars in their slightly-unfamiliar patterns.

“It looks different,” I remarked.

“We’re so far south,” Remus said. “It was like this in Italy. Different like this, I mean.” I could make no reply to that, but I’m sure he didn’t expect any. Reminders of Italy were never taken well, but at least I had stopped stomping off any longer at the tiniest mention, right?

“It is quite… lovely, as you say.” That was as far as I could go on that train of thought.

Remus strolled over to me and wrapped his arms around my chest. “You don’t mind, do you? Out here? Where no one can see us?” He snuggled his face comfortably into the crook of my neck. I felt his breath on my throat.

“There is the cow.”

“She doesn’t count,” Remus said. “She’s an animal.”

“So are we. So are you, for that matter. A ‘beast.’”

“That’s never bothered you before.”

“And it doesn’t now.”

“Aw! You say the most romantic things!”

“Must be the beer. Let’s just shag and get it over with.”

“See what I mean? Just like that.” Remus laughed as he leaned up for a kiss.

I instantly responded as always, parting my lips. Remus grinned. “Mmm… Corona, is it?”

I pulled away and made a face. “Yuck. Tequila.”

“Sorry about that. Give it a few minutes. You won’t notice a thing.”

“You’re not sorry at all.”

Remus slid his open mouth along my jaw, moving to tug a earlobe between his teeth. My breath caught in my chest. Every time with him felt like the first time – or the last. With my temperament, it could easily become the last, so I never held back, never wanted any time with him to be less than it could be.

I embraced him, one hand moving to cup his perfect arse, slender hips pressing firmly against my own. Urgency drove me to pull him down to the ground with me. We rolled a bit until Remus ended up on top, our hips grinding and mouths licking and sucking at each other. Remus’s hands began to tug open my jeans, freeing my rather rampant erection, and pull open the white button-down, revealing my hairless abdomen. I sometimes liked that my stomach was still flat. I sometimes wished I had more to offer him. Perfectly defined abdominal muscles, say.

“Mmm… love this,” Remus murmured, sliding down to lick and nuzzle my stomach.

I managed enough coherency to ask, “How do you want me?”

“On your knees, I think,” Remus replied. “Less chance of ruining that lovely shirt I made you buy.”

With a snicker, I did as requested, rolling easily onto my hands and knees. As Remus tugged my jeans down my skinny thighs, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I know this is your favorite position. You don’t need to make excuses.”

“I’m not,” he insisted. “And it’s not my favorite. I also like being on bottom.”

“You make a lovely bottom. You _have_ a lovely bottom.”

Remus huffed, leaned toward my proffered buttocks, and whispered two spells. The tingling sensation, followed closely by the moist heat of the lubrication, made me gasp.

“Hang on, love. Just a moment.”

“Be quick about it. We don’t have all night.”

“We have all the time in the world,” he countered. He inserted two fingers to insure the spread of the lubricant, then rose up on his own knees and I heard him unzip his jeans. “But I will hurry, since you ask so nicely.”

“Bastard – ah!”

Remus had positioned himself perfectly and thrust himself balls-deep in one quick move, spearing my buttocks neatly. Whether the nearby cow was disturbed by the subsequent needy growls and pleasured moans we made, watched for her own prurient interest, turned away to afford us privacy or slept through the proceedings, I neither knew nor cared. When _he_ made love to me, all else faded away – work, responsibilities, bills, colleagues, family. I cared about nothing more than making certain each time was better than the time before. For if I could manage that, then I could believe he would never become disenchanted or leave me.

Strangely, as he thrust, Remus asked, his voice hoarse, “Is this good? Do you like this? Shall I go harder?”

“Damn it, Remus! Stop! Talking! Just! Fuck me! Please..!” Why was he worrying about me? Didn’t he know all that mattered was that he was with me? If we never made love, never had sex again, but he still remained a part of my life, I could be happy for that. I knew that in the deepest recesses of my soul. All that mattered was _his_ happiness, and having sex the way _he_ wanted it. I had absolutely no preferences whatsoever, except that my only partner be Remus Lupin. Whatever he wanted to do was perfectly all right with me. Didn’t he know this? Did I need to spell it out for him?

“Sorry.”

A stab of fear struck through me. Maybe this wasn’t exciting enough for him, being outside like this, under the stars. Maybe I needed to do more. I began to hump my hips back at him harder, twisting my body and clenching my arse muscles to clutch and grab at his beautiful, perfect cock as it drove in and out of me.

It must have worked, because Remus began fucking me in earnest, his hips thrusting like pistons over and over again, stroking against my prostate, balls slapping against my balls, hips spanking against my buttocks in a frenzy of movement, energy and desire and I was so grateful! I heard myself encouraging him, using all sorts of low talk, begging him in a most servile manner to do all sorts of things to me. At some point, I came, shooting into the dirt, my fingers digging into the ground with the force of my orgasmic struggle. I continued my movement, wanting only to prolong Remus’s pleasure, but a moment later, he came, too, filling me with his come. He collapsed on my back; I braced my arms to keep him balanced and to keep myself from falling onto the spattered earth.

I let him hang there, his arms on either side of me, for as long as I could stand it. He wasn’t moving and I could barely hear him breathe. I hissed to him, “Remus? Gods above, Remus. Tell me you didn’t black out on me.”

“No, no. I’m here.” Remus pushed himself upright, and pulled his cock out from my loosened hole. I felt his hand reaching under to catch any spilling fluid. I knelt up and stretched out the kink in the small of my back. What did drip out, I saw Remus wipe on a nearby tuft of grass. A whiff of something familiar met my trained nose. Blood. 

Remus had smelt it, too. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Did I hurt you?”

His obvious concern touched me. Whatever he’d managed to abrade would heal by morning and, if not, I had potions with me that would easily do the trick. He knew that, which made his anxiety precious to me.

I scooted a short way away, then clambered to my feet, feeling rather unsteady. I pulled my jeans closed and zipped them, then readjusted my shirt, tucking in the ends while fixing Remus with a baleful look. “I assure you, I am quite well. And I thank you,” I added quietly.

Remus stood as well, bending over to brush his jeans clean. “For what?”

“For finally doing as I asked.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re often too controlled, too uncertain that what I want from you is nothing more nor less than all of you,” I said quietly. “After all you’ve ever said to me about relationships, I should think you would understand without me having to spell it out. There is no value in a relationship if there is no trust. There can be no trust if there is not honesty. Therefore, you must be honest, as I try to be, with yourself as well as with me, if we are to trust each other, and if our relationship is to have any value. That includes sex.”

“But I hurt you,” Remus said. “I could have hurt you worse.”

I nodded and felt myself flush. “Sometimes, I want you to.”

Remus just blinked at me. “But -!”

I held up a hand. “Not always. But I don’t think you always want to be that rough.” For which I was entirely too grateful. Once in a while was one thing. I could never survive on a steady diet of rough sex, although for Remus Lupin, I suppose I could make an exception. If I had to.

“No! Certainly not.”

I smiled my relief, though I doubt he could see it in the darkness. “Then what do I have to fear by telling you that sometimes I like it when you’re rough with me?”

Remus thought about it and shrugged. “Nothing, I suppose.”

Silence. Remus smiled and took my hand. “You’re a fascinating man.”

“It’s why you love me,” I said in my most lofty of tones. I always figured if I said it like a joke, he’d never realize that I loved him. He’d never get frightened by my devotion. He’d never leave to escape my feelings, fearing that he could never return them and that it would hurt me if he did not. I didn’t care if he never felt more for me than affectionate friendship, just as long as I got to share his life. It was a good bargain that I’d made with my heart. It was the best I could hope for.

“Now come on,” I said, tugging Remus back up the slope. “We have a bar tab to settle and then a bed to get to. Big day tomorrow. Lots of travel. I understand from Minerva ‘the Alamo’ in San Antonio is a ‘must-see’. I intend for us to see it.”

“It was a good movie,” Remus said. “Lots of manly men. John Wayne, for instance.”

“It was a movie?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then why are we going to see these ruins? Why not just rent the damned movie? We could stay in bed, make popcorn. You could have some tequila.”

“I don’t think so,” Remus said with a laugh. “Minerva will question us when we get back. I’m not going to be the one to lie to her.”

“Very well. I wonder if we could get away from the tour group and –“

“-find a spot to shag?”

I grinned at him. “Interested?”

“If there is a way, you’ll find it.”

“Good thing I’ve got a Gryffindor along brave and stupid enough to actually do it with me.”

“Good thing, indeed,” he said. “Good thing, indeed.”


	6. Say Hello To Your Little Friend

“But darling, it’s Remus’s sixth birthday. A boy needs presents on his birthday.”

“And that’s why we got him the books, remember?” Hector smiled at his wife. She meant well, but she didn’t always make the best decisions, especially not now, not after… the Accident.

“Books are fine, but a boy his age wants games. Toys. Like this.” She cuddled a medium-sized, dog-shaped stuffed animal in her arms, then held it out for Hector to see it. “Isn’t it cute? Isn’t it darling? He even kind of looks like Remus, don’t you think?”

“Honey,” Hector sighed. “For one thing, he’s a boy. Boys don’t like plush toys. For another, he’s a werewolf. He won’t know it’s his birthday. Besides, we’re having that party for him on Saturday. That’s when we’re celebrating.”

“But his birthday is today,” she went on. “That’s why I made his favorite blood pudding and that lovely cake. He deserves a present. He’s a good boy and needs to know we still love him even though he’s been turning into a wolf every month.”

Hector sighed. “Very well. Give it to him. But don’t be surprised if he doesn’t react well.”

“Oh, thank you!” She jumped into his arms and kissed his neck. “He’ll love it. You’ll see. My family always had dogs and they always loved their toys. Remus’ll love this. Can we go give it to him now?”

“Of course. Let me get my wand.”

Hector routinely spelled-shut the basement door on full moon nights. His wife would never have tried to unlock the door anyway, but he put wards up to protect the unwary. Like her parents or their neighbors. It was a difficult thing sometimes, being married to a Muggle and living in a Muggle neighborhood, but most of the time, Hector Lupin enjoyed it. He told them he was a researcher, which was true, and that their son had ‘allergies’, which was also true, and for the most part, that explained any unusual behavior. It had worked for the past nine months, at any rate, since that fateful trip to Cardiff.

Hector resolutely pushed all that to the back of his mind where he kept his worries for his son’s future and his wife’s mental equilibrium. Informing her he was a wizard and could do magic had been scary, but her pleased reaction more than made up for it. ‘That’s so neat!’ she had said. Confirming to her that their son could also do magic was less scary, but her reaction was also less pleased. ‘That’s… so neat,’ she had said.

Telling her that their son had been mauled by a werewolf and would now turn into one, one night of every twenty-eight, and then her seeing the proof of that change, well. That had been the worst experience of his life. Her reaction had not made it any easier. ‘I… see. And none of your all-powerful wizard friends know of any cure, do they? Of course not,’ she had said.

Still, she was trying. Hector had to give her credit for that. In all honesty, he’d never thought to get their son something to play with while transformed. Maybe his son was bored and that was why he tore at his flesh so much? Maybe, just maybe, this stuffed animal would help. It was a rather good likeness, after all.

They went down the basement stairs, their son’s growls growing louder and fiercer. Hector had purchased a small hippogriff cage from a vendor in Diagon Alley just after the Attack. Now every month, without fail, Remus walked obediently into the cage, nude, and waited for moonrise. Hector always stayed near him to oversee the transformation. The first time, he stayed the entire night, listening to his son’s desperate snarls and menacing growls as the creature struggled to get to the motionless prey. The second month, he convinced himself that Remus wouldn’t know if he were there the entire time or not, and he went upstairs after midnight to get some rest in his own bed, returning just before moonset to help his son to his own room.

Now, he remained for the transformation and then left the basement. Remus never said a word either way.

The cage sat in the middle of the low-ceilinged room. The wolf, not nearly full grown, but fully capable of killing or inflicting its disease, paced back and forth, back and forth. Hector tried to smile comfortingly. He called out to his son, trying to reassure him of his peaceful intentions.

“It’s okay, son. Your mother just wanted to give you a gift. It’s your birthday, remember?” He turned to his wife. “Are you ready?”

She nodded and held out the stuffed animal.

Hector withdrew his wand. “Wingardium Leviosa,” he said, and the stuffed animal rose into the air and moved steadily toward the cage. The wolf stopped in his tracks, his keen eyesight tracking the advancing plush toy as it pushed through the bars of the cage and plopped onto the ground. The toy, figured to resemble a crouching German Shepherd, stared up at the real one with bright button eyes. The wolf stared back.

“I think he likes it,” she said, clutching Hector’s arm. “See? It was a good idea.”

“Maybe,” Hector said slowly.

The wolf growled and barked. The toy remained silent.

Hector considered animating the stuffed animal, but decided against it. There was no telling how the wolf would react to such an unexpected stimulus.

The wolf sniffed at the stuffed toy’s rear end. Hector grinned. His wife giggled. Then the wolf put his paws on the stuffed animal’s shoulders and –

“Christ Almighty, Hector! What is he doing!? He’s… he’s _abusing_ that poor thing!”

Hector wasn’t sure how to answer that. He saw what Remus was doing. Indeed, something in him couldn’t look away, but how to explain it? Was their son a pervert? “Maybe… maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” he muttered. “He is a werewolf, after all. I guess… this is… part of it. We’d, um, better leave him alone. We’ll get the toy back in the morning and, er, um…”

“We’ll have to get rid of it,” she said, covering her mouth with one hand. “He’s just ruining it. Oh, god. Why won’t he stop… _humping_ it? This is awful.” She turned away and Hector drew her into his arms.

“Let’s go on upstairs, dear,” he said. “I’ll take care of it in the morning. Remus will never even know it was there. Come on. Watch your step.” He gently guided his wife up the stairs, ignoring the sounds of their son yipping happily, despoiling the toy representation of Rin Tin Tin.

Remus never knew what happened to his first and only stuffed animal, but he knew better than to ask. A few days after that birthday, his mother went out to the store for a gallon of milk and never came back. Remus had more to worry about than a lost toy.


	7. Not Just a Job, an Adventure

All seven members of the Hampshire Harpies Quidditch team were celebrating their victory over the Chudley Cannons in their locker room. Still sweaty from the game, Chasers Brent Brownley, Cole Latimer and Alicia Bertram doffed their uniforms and strode naked into the steaming showers. Seeker Allen Finch stared hungrily after them, rubbing firmly at his growing erection. Twin Beaters, Darryl and Darcy Drake had slipped their hands down the front of each other's pants, but were staring at the nude Keeper and Team Captain Will Whistler as he lazily fondled his prick. They were eager to get started, but one thing was missing: Team Mascot, Remus Lupin.

Lupin's throng of admirers screamed and clawed at him as he tried to force his way through the crowd toward the locker room. His teammates needed him, he needed his teammates, and this amorous crush threatened to interfere with all that. A few of the more beauteous fans tore at his flimsy costume; he felt his cock swing free as someone tore a strip off his purple loincloth. Pawing at him, their hands clawing at his skin, his chest, his legs, the people surrounded him and he almost slipped to the ground in surrender when salvation came. The Harpies' coach yanked Remus by the shoulder through to the locker room and shoved him through. The coach shot him a look and Remus knew what his job was now.

He had to reward the team for their victory.

The first thing he did was kneel between Whistler's knees. It was due to that wizard’s excellent skills at the goals that the Cannons were held to 50 points. He deserved the best fellatio Remus could muster. Whistler's broad hands carded through Remus's hair, bringing his face closer to that thick, weeping cock. Then it was in his mouth, hard and hot and thrusting.

"There he is, the slut," someone said behind him. Remus felt Seeker Finch smack his arse a few times, then shove something long and hard - but not his prick - into his arsehole. It stretched him, filled him and he moved his arse the way Finch liked it best.

"Push him down," another voice said and Remus pulled off Whistler's cock to crouch down, bracing himself on his arms, his arse raised high in the air. He felt pressure on the thing in his arse. Darcy had impaled herself on it and was bouncing up and down, her full breasts jiggling and jumping with each shake of her body.

When she had collapsed, breathless, Darryl pulled his sister off Remus, then pulled out the thing from Remus's arse. "My turn," he growled, and fit his own cock into the gaping hole.

Remus wanted to - needed to - come so desperately, but knew he wasn't allowed until the last person was through with him. Maybe they would allow him to touch himself and maybe they'd fuck him until he came on his own. It didn't matter. He was there for their pleasure, not his own.

Darryl shot copious amounts of thick fluid into Remus's arse and as he did so, shouting like an animal, Whistler stroked himself off, splattering Remus's back. Seeker Finch then grabbed Remus's hair and made him crawl into the showers. Once there, he saw that the Chasers had already started. Brent lay on his back, Alicia sat on top of him and Cole fucked Alicia's arse. The pretty girl's face was red and gasping, her eyes closed and her mouth a perfect O-shape as both cocks - cocks Remus knew well - fucked her thoroughly. For a moment, Remus wished he could be Alicia and get fucked that way.

Being still on his knees, however, made him vulnerable for Finch's next gambit. Using a Beater's bat, he proceeded to smack Remus's fleshy arsecheeks, making him crawl across the shower floor, one end to the other. Remus felt his cock bounce painfully with each movement. He needed desperately to come soon. He heard Finch laugh at him, pointing out his bobbing cock to the others. Remus was soon crying, humiliated tears streaming over his face, mixing with the spray and steam from the showers. Then Alicia called him over to service her. She leaned back and he pushed his face to her crotch so he could lick her just where Brent's cock was still driving in and out. She allowed Remus to reach up and grip her breasts, suck at them, feel the nipples harden and tighten in his mouth's grip. She came, her eyes closing in perfect delight.

Finch shoved his cock in Remus's face, stroking it hard. Remus obediently opened his mouth. From the corner of his eye, he could see Cole holding Alicia against his chest, his hands cupping her breasts. They smiled at him cruelly. Finch's cock shot at him, coating his tongue and painting his cheeks with come.

It was Remus's turn now. He knelt up and, using the come from his face, began stroking himself. It didn't take long until he was coming harder than any of the others and he was flying - flying - flying...

In his bed at night, Remus often wondered if there really were jobs like that and what one had to do to apply. Tomorrow was his Career Advice appointment with Professor McGonagall. Maybe she'd know.


	8. Spanking the Monkey

There were eight in the room that evening including Remus. He only recognized his host, Vladimir (though he doubted that was his real name), and Vlad’s _slave_ , a girl who was known only as ‘pet’. He had never seen the five other men before, but he was fairly certain they had never seen him before, either. Also, he was the youngest by at least five years. Excluding pet. Curious.

Remus allowed one part of his mind to fixate on that fact, to pick it apart and apply it to what he already knew of Vlad and Vlad’s predilections, while the other willed his body to get with the program already. Vlad had promised they’d only be required for thirty minutes at most, and they’d been there fifteen. He wasn’t even feeling an anticipatory twitch yet.

Remus finished off his drink and set the glass on a low table. He carefully did not meet the eyes of the other men, though a couple of them were giving each other purposely bland, seen-it-all looks, as if they did this sort of thing every day. 

He hoped he never became that jaded.

“Gentlemen,” Vlad said suddenly, raising one hand. “You have all had a chance to admire pet.”

Remus’s eyes snapped to the girl in the center of the room. He let his eyes drift over her. Long, blonde hair tied up in a high ponytail. Expertly done makeup. Full, red lips parting slightly with each tiny breath. A starched white Oxford cloth button-down shirt. A red plaid tie in a Windsor knot. A matching red plaid pleated skirt that hung to just above her knees. Long white knee-high socks and black patent leather shoes. She looked like nothing more than an exceptionally pretty Muggle public school girl.

But Remus knew differently. Since befriending Vlad several weeks ago, he’d come to understand a great many things about the sort of person he and pet were, and they were not as innocent as they came across. 

Vlad was still speaking. “Get up closer to her. Smell her perfume. It’s exquisite, is it not?”

Dutifully, Remus, and the other men, crowded close to the girl. He did smell her. It was close to the full moon, which quite possibly was the main reason he had accepted Vlad’s invitation, but he could easily smell pet’s beer-enhanced shampoo, her expensive floral perfume, and her pungent female odor. He could also smell anticipation tinged with fear.

And then he sensed the other mens’ arousal. That was what finally got him interested. He was inwardly amused to realize that pet did nothing for him on her own, that it was the presence of these otherwise ordinary-looking men, who were becoming aroused themselves, that interested him beyond simple scientific curiosity. What would Sirius give to be here right now, Remus wondered. Pity he had to baby-sit Harry so that James and Lily could go out on their anniversary. He smirked. Maybe he could put this in a Pensieve later.

“She’s perfect,” one of the men breathed. “Fresh and innocent.”

“Oh, pet is hardly innocent,” Vlad replied with a dry chuckle. “She’s had more cocks in her than a henhouse. Isn’t that right, pet?”

The girl’s cheeks flushed and she glanced down to the floor.

“Eyes up, pet. That’s better,” Vlad said as she immediately obeyed him. “Now, gentlemen. I think we know why you’re here.”

That was their signal. The six men formed a loose semicircle around pet with Remus ending up facing the girl. Her head tilted back and her mouth opened. Remus watched as her flat tongue hung out like she was expecting Communion. Vlad remained on the couch.

In unison, the men unzipped their trousers and pulled out their pricks. The sight of so many stiffening cocks was enough for Remus to get hard, despite his unease with the odd ritualistic nature of the evening and the presence of the girl. He grasped his shaft and began to stroke. Each of them pumped their cock while pointing them at pet’s face. Remus wondered how many of these men had played these sorts of games, as he and his friends had done in Hogwarts. Minus the girl, of course.

He swiftly banished such thoughts from his mind and tried to focus on what he was there for.

_’It’s called_ bukkake _, John,’ Vlad had told him. ‘It’s a Japanese thing. A group of men get together, surround a girl, and masturbate until they ejaculate on her face. It’s quite lovely, really.’_

_‘So, I just wank off on some girl’s face? What then?’_

_‘This is the beauty of it,’ Vlad had said. ‘You get to leave. You’re done in twenty, thirty minutes tops.’_

_‘And that’s it?’_

_‘That’s all you need worry about. I’ll handle pet from there.’_

_‘’Pet’?’_

_‘My slave girl. That’s what she’s known as until she earns a name. If she passes this test, she’ll be well on her way to earning my collar. My protection. And a name.’ He grinned._

_Remus just nodded. ‘I see. Sure, yeah. I’ll be there. Friday night? Seven o’clock? See you then.’_

It had seemed rather straightforward and easily accomplished. After all, he wanked just about every day anyway, and he had some experience wanking in front of other men. The unexpected problem was the girl. Pet. Remus had never wanked in front of a girl before.

Pet kept staring up at him, her huge eyes imploring him to… do… something. Remus wasn’t exactly certain what. Did she really _want_ him to come on her face? Why would she? Why would anyone?

Then the first man began to shoot, followed closely by a strangled cry and the second and third man. The sight of the streams of ejaculate spurting onto the girl’s lovely face, streaming over her cheek, her nose, down her jaw, even into her open mouth, startled Remus; he almost lost his rhythm. Then his eyes caught sight of the other two men, their cocks driving purple and red through their hands, heads glistening, breathing in huge gasps, and Remus lost control. His eyes closed and he felt his knees buckle slightly and his thighs tremble and then he shot directly onto pet’s face. He heard the distinctive _split-splutter_ as his semen squirted across her already-stained cheeks. The other two came soon after.

Vlad was suddenly behind Remus, holding out a box of tissues. Each man took one and cleaned himself off before fixing his clothes. One by one, each man bid Vlad a good evening and they exit into the night. Remus was last; he wanted to talk to Vlad, to discuss what had happened and why and what about pet, but Vlad firmly guided him to the front door.

“We’ll talk on Monday, John,” he said quietly. “I have things to do here. Responsibilities to pet. You’ll understand.”

Remus nodded, but he wasn’t sure he did. “Is she -? Will she be all right?”

Vlad clapped him on his shoulder and almost pushed him out the door. “She’ll be just fine. She loved it. Trust me.”

Remus turned on the front stoop, facing Vlad, and asked, “But… why?”

Vlad winked at him. “Who doesn’t enjoy being the center of attention? Go home, John. Or go get drunk. We’ll chat on Monday and I’ll answer all your questions. If you like, I’ll even let you talk to pet.”

Remus nodded. Vlad shut the door. Center of attention, eh? He mused, walking quickly to the curb.

_Might be worth trying some day._


	9. Fist of Fury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes fisting and abuse of consent which may be troubling for some readers. In addition, don't try it this way at home. This chapter represents a few hours of Remus Lupin's life and completely leaves out any allusion to the preparations he did or did not take to ready himself for this experience, and his experiences afterward.

“The Nine-Fingered Man is worth waiting for, I swear it! Have I ever lied to you?”

Remus Lupin regarded his old friend Vlad through narrowed eyes. “Not exactly,” he said slowly. “But you have misled me.”

“Which is not the same thing at all. Now honestly, John. When have I ever misled you?”

“Your relationship with Spice, for one,” Remus said confidently. “You know I thought she was a bit… deluded for quite a long time.”

Vlad laughed quietly. It would not do to draw too much attention to themselves at the Cock and Badger, an out-of-the-way pub in a dodgy section of London. The two men regarded their respective pints and shifted on their barstools.

“You promise me I won’t regret this?”

“I promise you,” Vlad said sincerely. “You’ll love it. And you won’t be permanently damaged. You’ll probably be all back to normal this time tomorrow. You remember what I suggested about that liquid diet?”

Remus nodded. “No worries there, mate,” he said, lifting his pint glass with an ironic grin.

“That’s the spirit,” Vlad said. He glanced toward the pub’s entrance as the door opened. A single man – weather-beaten face, cap pulled low, aging pea-green coat over a slight body – shuffled inside.

“And that’s him.”

“That?” Remus repeated, suddenly feeling decidedly uneasy.

Vlad smirked. “You were expecting Rob Lowe? I told you he was older.”

“Yeah, but –“

“And I told you how he lost his thumb.”

“In an explosion, yeah –“

“ _Making_ the explosion,” Vlad said quietly. “Very good hands, that one. Expert.”

Remus shivered. He’d always found men’s hands to be incredibly erotic. Hands on his hair, his face, his legs – anywhere, really. He even enjoyed watching men make things with their hands. It was the first thing that drew him to Roland all those years ago. 

The Nine-Fingered Man looked up, caught Vlad’s eye and nodded his head. He went up to the bar, ordered a drink, received it, then shuffled down the bar to sit on the other side of Vlad.

“This him?” he said in a gruff voice.

“This is him,” Vlad affirmed.

“Er, it’s nice to meet you,” Remus said, reaching out a hand. Vlad frowned at him and gently pushed the hand away.

“Will he do?” Vlad asked the Nine-Fingered Man.

In response, the man turned and stared at Remus’s face. Remus felt the urge to smile broadly, but refrained. The man huffed, lifted a shoulder, and said, “He’s pretty.”

“Haven’t been pretty in years,” Remus snickered softly.

Vlad shot him a second stern look. “Shut up!” he ordered in a fierce whisper. To the Nine-Fingered Man, he said, “He’s not too pretty, is he?”

“I like them pretty.” Then the Nine-Fingered Man looked right into Remus’s eyes as he asked Vlad, “Will he scream for me?”

Vlad just smiled.

~~

Remus screamed.

He’d never been so painfully full before. Sure, he’d had enormous cocks up his arse, and once Roland had configured a stick to resemble a generously endowed phallus, but a man’s entire fist? He hadn’t thought it possible, until Vlad demonstrated the technique on his slave, Spice. It had looked interesting enough, and Spice had certainly loved it, so Remus thought he’d give it a try. What the hell, he told himself. He’d always said he’d try anything once. But Vlad declined to have any sexual contact with males, not that Remus would have interfered with his and Spice’s relationship; he’d grown to understand enough of it to respect it as completely as any more traditional, marital-type partnership. However, Vlad had an option.

The Nine-Fingered Man.

According to rumor, he was ex-military. A bomb expert. An explosives genius. And he’d blown off his thumb making a mail bomb for the IRA. No one knew his real name, and no one dared to ask it. The Nine-Fingered Man was famous for his bombs, legend for his _other_ gifts.

Fisting, for one.

Without his thumb to get in the way, the Nine-Fingered Man was more easily able to slip his entire lubricated hand into a gentleman’s arse – and it was always a gentleman. The Nine-Fingered Man was as queer as Vlad was straight. He would avidly watch his ‘partner’ writhe and twist under his ‘tender’ ministrations, regard him with all the equanimity of a scientist observing mildly interesting insect behavior, and then pack up and leave. Who knew what else he did for fun.

It had started out exciting enough. Undressing in front of a stranger had the same appeal as always. He lay down on the bed. His wrists were manacled to the headboard, then his legs, spreading his arsecheeks wide. Remus had enjoyed that part, as well as the initial penetration. Upon the insertion of the Nine-Fingered Man’s fourth finger, though, Remus lost his erection completely. The reality of what he was about to experience completely unnerved him. He asked the Nine-Fingered Man to stop, to slow down – but he did not listen to Remus’s pleas. The widest part of his hand pushed into Remus’s body, and that’s when Remus lost his composure completely.

Remus screamed as the Nine-Fingered Man kept pushing his arm forward, plunging his wrist now into the lycanthrope’s bowels, allowing the sphincter to close around it. The unyielding pressure of the man’s albeit well-lubricated fist against his bowels coupled with the callused fingers scraping against his tender prostate caused tears of exquisite agony to pool in his eyes.

Were Remus not manacled to the bedstead, were his ankles not manacled above his wrists bending him in two, he would have fought the Nine-Fingered Man with every fiber of his being. Fortunately or not, his wand was safely hidden back in his flat and it was nowhere near the full moon. He had not seen a need to use his wand and he’d figured his lycanthropic strength might interfere with the whole experience. He had wanted to be as close to ‘Muggle’-strength as possible.

Besides. Vlad had personally vouched for the Nine-Fingered Man, and Remus trusted Vlad implicitly.

With all but his true identity, of course. To Vlad, Remus was still ‘John Peters,’ bookshop manager extraordinaire, who liked to walk on the wild side of life every chance he got.

Like tonight.

Vlad was waiting outside the motel room, presumably smoking a cigarette and reading the details about Prince Andrew’s break-up with the improbably named Koo Stark. If the sounds of Remus’s screams were affecting him in any way, like as not, he’d never let on. That was one thing Remus respected about Vlad. The man interfered in no one’s personal lives.

But oh, how he wished Vlad would storm in here, drag the Nine-Fingered Man off him and end this torture! But Vlad thought Remus wanted this, and until the very moment the bulk of the Nine-Fingered Man’s hand began spreading his sphincter, he thought he did, too. And then he changed his mind. Simple, right?

_Sorry, mate, but the reality is a far cry from the fantasy. Here’s for your trouble._

Unfortunately, the Nine-Fingered Man did not allow for someone to change his mind. That was the deal and, Vlad and Remus concluded, part of the turn-on. No safewords, and with Remus manacled so firmly to the bed, meant the man had absolute control over the scene. Remus had to let him do it. The one thing Remus had to cling to, the one hope, was that the Nine-Fingered Man absolutely had his method and would never deviate from it. It was his signature, just like his bombs had a signature. He would fist Remus up to his elbow and then he would orgasm, all with only ever rolling up his sleeves. He would come in his pants, wash up and then leave.

Remus prayed the man would hurry up and come. He prayed that he would stop, that it would all just end. He prayed that he could conjure a Time-Turner, go back two hours and convince himself not to go through with it.

He could swear he felt his tissues tearing, his colon’s internal lining pulling apart like wet paper and blood weeping from the open wounds, running down his arse crack and pooling a bit on the bed beneath him. 

“Please, please just stop,” Remus begged, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You h-have no idea how m-much this is h-hurting me. I th-thought – I d-didn’t th-think it would h-hurt this b-bad.”

“Hush, child,” the Nine-Fingered Man said, almost kindly. “Hush.”

He had a trace of Irish in his accent, Remus noticed, but hardly cared. “My mother’s from Limerick,” he said suddenly, hitting on an idea.

“Is that so?” the man replied, his arm moving steadily forward.

Remus nodded desperately, swallowing hard against the pain. He fought the urge to piss himself; it was a near thing. “She – she came here when she was a teenager, I think.”

“And what would she think of you now, if she saw you like this, hm?”

“I- I don’t know,” he gasped. “She’s not my real m-mother.”

“And if they were both here, hm?”

Completely confused, Remus asked, “What are you talking about? Why are you… Oh.” He almost laughed. “No, no. I don’t… that isn’t helping. I’m not going to get…hard from this. H-hurts too much.”

“Is that so?”

He forced his eyes open, forced himself to look into the man’s face, forced himself to be calm and reasonable as he pleaded, “So won’t you please stop? One Irishman to another?”

“I don’t care if you come or not.” The Nine-Fingered Man’s surprisingly cold, pale blue eyes shone with detached interest as he stared at Remus’s face.

Remus was bent double, arse facing up, manacled to the headboard, no room to wriggle. The Nine-Fingered Man crouched over him, one arm bracing himself on the same headboard, the other bearing all his weight into Remus’s body. Remus could easily see, thanks to the low-level light from the bedside table lamp, the glistening, lubricated forearm disappearing into his obscenely gaping arsehole. He had thought it would be, at the least, an exciting sexual experience. Instead, it was everything but. He tried to imagine a handsome man, Roland, perhaps, fisting him this way, fisting him at all, but that failed utterly to arouse him. Instead, the idea frightened him.

 _My arse is never going to be the same_ , he thought. _He’ll ruin me for other men! Why did I ever think this would be fun?_

The Nine-Fingered Man began panting hard. The inside of his elbow brushed up against Remus’s scrotum. His eyes closed. He began to twist his arm, back and forth, inside Remus’s body.

Remus groaned and tried to escape the shifting, unending internal pressure, but that only made his inner muscles tighten on the arm inside him.

“That’s it,” the Nine-Fingered Man cooed. “That’s my boy.”

Remus shouted and the bedside table lamp bulb exploded, plunging the room into semidarkness.

“Again! So good.”

Remus tried harder to expel the arm from his body, his teeth gnashing with the effort.

The tiny television in the corner of the room exploded in a powder-flash of light. The mirror above the dresser cracked. The light bulbs in the bathroom popped.

“Ahh!” The Nine-Fingered Man, eyes closed and oblivious to the wild magic, finally came with a strangled shout. He rested a moment, panting heavily.

“Please – please take it out,” Remus begged, his voice ragged.

And then… relief. The Nine-Fingered Man slowly withdrew his arm from Remus’s abused body, sighing as inch after inch was exposed to the cooler air. Finally, only his fist remained, the knuckles pressing firmly against Remus’s prostate, bruising the abused gland.

“Want to go again?” he asked.

“No!” was Remus’s immediate reply.

The Nine-Fingered Man shrugged and withdrew the hand. He immediately got up and went to the bathroom. Once there, he ignored the broken lights and began running hot water and rinsing off his arm. Remus thought he heard the man say something about ‘cheap accommodations.’

“Oi! When do I get out of here?”

No answer.

Remus sighed and pulled at the manacles, but they weren’t coming off without the key or a hacksaw. He chanced a glance at his arse, then cringed away from the sight of it: red, swollen, gaping, raw. He stared up at the ceiling, ignoring the tears drying itchy on his face.

The Nine-Fingered Man came back into the room, drying his arm on a cotton towel. Without a word, he plucked the manacle keys out of his pocket and unlocked Remus’s legs and then arms. Gratefully, Remus stretched his arms and legs, reveling in the renewed blood flow to his hands and feet, despite the sharp tingles of pain.

The Nine-Fingered Man gave him a steady look as he rolled down his sleeve. He turned and went to the door. “Any time you want to repeat this, just give Vlad a call.”

“Right,” Remus replied weakly, resolving never to do that.

The Nine-Fingered Man opened the door and went into the hallway. A moment of hushed conversation passed between him and Vlad, and then Vlad hurried inside, shutting the door behind him.

“How’d it go?” he asked anxiously. “Did you like it? Was it everything you expected?”

“It went,” Remus replied. “No, and no. I don’t understand the appeal and furthermore, I don’t want to.”

Vlad stopped short, a curious frown on his face. “Really? I understood him to be quite good at it. If you’d like, I could ask around, find a Dom who wouldn’t mind a go.”

“No! Never again. I’m sure he was the best. He took his time, he lubed up first… It’s me. I discovered it’s really not for me.” He grinned. “I guess I’m ‘vanilla’ after all, eh?”

Vlad laughed softly. “What do you take me for, a fool? So you’re not into fisting. Not everyone is. It’s good to know your limits.”

“And aren’t you the one who stresses pushing yourself beyond your limits?”

“That’s exactly what you just did tonight,” Vlad replied seriously. “You pushed yourself beyond your limits only to reinforce what those limits are. You tried something new and you did it in a safe, sane, and consensual manner.”

“Not exactly consensual,” Remus said. “I was begging him to stop.”

“He told me that,” Vlad admitted. He moved to sit next to Remus, side-by-side on the bed. He placed an arm around the naked man’s shoulders and spoke low. “He was worried about you, after the fact, but his thing is to _not_ stop. He prefers it when his partners struggle and cry. It makes him hot. And a lot of men protest at first, but once you – again – get past their previous limits, they find they enjoy it. Now come on and get dressed,” he said, getting up to grab Remus’s shirt from the top of the bureau. “And don’t forget to pad your drawers. You’ll thank me when we get into the car.”

“Yes, mother.” Remus sat up straighter, feeling a bit woozy from the whole experience. He took his shirt from Vlad and pulled it on but left it unbuttoned. He idly noticed the lack of blood on the bedspread. Must have been my imagination, he thought.

“Speaking of,” Vlad said, handing Remus the rest of his clothes. “Spice is waiting on us. She’s anxious to know how you did.”

“Great,” Remus said, unenthusiastically pulling on his drawers. Vlad handed him a thick wad of soft cotton gauze. In minutes, Remus was dressed, his drawers padded. “Let’s go.”

“One more thing,” Vlad said, looking around. “The manager is likely to ask. What happened to all the lights? And was the mirror always broken?”

Remus shrugged. “Beats me.”

“You know,” Vlad said thoughtfully as they entered the hallway. “That’s something else you might try one of these days.”


	10. Telling Tales Out of School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a little experimental. See if it works for you.

The biggest cock I ever had was a good 10 inches. Or maybe a little more. It’s not like I ever measured. Now, I've seen bigger, but this was the longest one I've ever been intimate with.

\- Go on.

It was... it was pretty damned big, I can assure you. I could wrap both hands around the shaft and still have plenty for my mouth, which was somewhat... amusing. I had it inside me a couple times. We were lovers for a short while, you see. That was... good, but uncomfortable. I suppose I don't really like - no, I _know_ I don't really like terribly large cocks inside me. It's one thing to suck them or stroke them, but I've gotten a bit wand-shy, I guess you could say, after a particularly _bruising_ experience with a bomb expert. But that's a story for later.

\- Was the 10-inch cock before or after the bomb expert?

After. You ever been fisted?

\- No, nor have I ever considered it.

Some like it, I'm told. I definitely don't. That's way too much penetration. I much prefer to... to have a chance to... to _squeeze_ my lover's cock. You know - really milk the come out of him. Maybe it was this particular man's technique, but I wasn't able to move around at all. Of course, I'd probably have moved _away_ from him. I thought having a large cock in me would be different - which it was - but doable.

\- And it wasn't, I assume.

No, sadly enough. That wasn't why we broke up, you understand. He was a Muggle. I wasn't about to introduce one of them to the realities of my life. 

\- And yet you maintain Muggle friendships...

You mean like Vlad and Spice? Sure. But they're different. They're more accepting of the idea of secrets, of separating one's private from one's public life, for they do it themselves.

\- Being a 'Master' and his 'slave', you mean.

Exactly. They don't share that with just anyone. In public, they're just like any other couple, unless you know what you're looking at. When you meet them, see if you can tell. You might be able to anyway, of course, because you know already, but just see if you can based on your own observations.

\- I shall endeavor to be objective.

I know you will.

\- Continue telling me about the 10-inch cock. I’m not satisfied you’ve fully answered my question.

Damn, you’re a stickler for the rules.

\- May I remind you that you were the one insisting that ‘when I was eleven’ was not a good enough response to _your_ question of my first wet dream.

Point taken. Let’s see, then. The bloke himself was tall, easily six and a half feet. He loved to run. You know how Muggles run footraces against each other as sport? He did that, which gave him an incredibly lean body, almost whipcord thin. Standing next to him, I felt as if I were a child, sometimes. Anyway, everything lines up in when you're laying down, right?

\- Theoretically.

Yes, well. Damn, but this is good whiskey. I'll have to remember this label. I often like to have a little mutual wank. You know, line up my cock and my lover's, hold them both and let fly, but... putting mine up against his was a bit, I don't like to say 'intimidating', because that's not what I mean. I have a respectably-sized cock and let me tell you, when I turn into a werewolf, there is simply no comparison.

\- I shall take your word for it.

Heh. Or I could just show you later on...

\- No. Erm... Thank you. That shall not be required.

Either way. It was easier sometimes to take him on my hands and knees. He got more power in each thrust that way. And could I feel it! Every inch just pounding into me, spreading me, stretching me. It was always, but always, sore afterward.

\- What was? He was? Or -

I was. My arsehole was, rather. And he didn't like to bottom, so we were left with the usual sorts of thing. Sucking, stroking each other off. That kind of thing.

\- And that disappointed you? Here - have the last bit. I've got more in the cabinet.

Thanks. It's really good stuff. The sucking and wanking wasn't awful in and of itself. I mean, I like sucking off a bloke. It's a tremendous feeling, having him explode in my mouth, swallowing down his… his essence. Sounds hokey, doesn't it?

\- Not at all. I think I know what you mean. It's paradoxically a position of power.

Exactly! But it doesn't beat me shoving my prick into the other bloke's mouth or arsehole and I don't really know why that should be so.

\- Perhaps you're just a natural Dom?

Sirius used to say I'm an Alpha. I don't know if that's the case. Certainly I've always been in control of whom I fuck and when and where.

\- Like me.

Uh... are you... Did I... I didn't mean to... but, are you trying to tell me I... _forced_ you the other night? ...ha-ha... Hey. Don't go denying it all at once.

\- Lupin... it's not an easy thing for me to discuss. Clearly, you have no difficulty discussing sexual matters.

Certainly not with someone I've had sex with!

\- Yes, well... I do. I've never found it comfortable to discuss this sort of thing with anyone. Almost especially with my previous... partners.

The way you say that. 'Partners.' Sounds so clinical.

\- Let me ask you another question, then.

It's not your turn. Is it?

\- At the moment, I don't much care.

Fine. Go ahead. If I get two in a row after.

\- Agreed. Exactly what sort of previous sexual experience do you think I have had?

Oh, gods. You're not about to tell me you were a _virgin_ , are you? Please, don't tell me that.

\- For Merlin's sake, Lupin! I am thirty-six years old! You were not my first time.

Thank goodness. I don't think I could have borne that.

\- Why not?

Is this another question?

\- No. Answer the first.

I suppose... I thought, if I _did_ ever think about it, which I must be honest and tell you that while I had thought of you, it was never in the context of what you might have been doing to who-

\- 'Whom.'

Whatever. If I did think about to _whom_ , I'd have to say that I suppose you had a few short relationships from time to time. Surely there was someone in school?

\- Would it honestly surprise you to discover there was no one until I left school?

No. I don't think it would. Sorry. You asked and the rules require me to tell you the truth, after all.

\- Don’t apologize for being honest.

All right. So after Hogwarts you… found someone?

\- In a manner of speaking. That summer when I began my apprenticeship, my master... took certain... liberties. As was his right under the agreement he made with my father.

Christ! That's barbaric!

\- It wasn't completely awful. It confirmed that I was not heterosexually inclined whatsoever. He simply would not have been my choice in that regard.

And when you finished with your apprenticeship?

\- There was a time, just after the Dark Lord's first defeat, when I would go into Hogsmeade and meet a certain gentleman at a prearranged time.

You mean a date?

\- I believe that is what I said.

And you'd shag?

\- To put it crudely, yes.

Were you always the bottom?

\- I have 'topped' once or twice, just to see what all the fuss was about.

And?

\- Somewhere along this line of conversation, we seem to have lost track of our game.

Who cares. Have another drink. Did you enjoy topping?

\- It had its... charms.

Would you like to top me?

\- Lupin, I...

You should start calling me 'Remus' at some point.

\- Perhaps.

Come on, man! Wouldn't you like to push me down onto the floor, right here, on the carpet, tear open my trousers and pull down my pants, spit on your cock and just shove it inside me? Revel in my groans and whimpers? Make me beg for you to touch me?

\- Oh.. um...

I know I am. I'm getting hot just thinking about it. My pants are becoming a bit too tight. Would you mind terribly if I loosened my clothes?

\- Um... no. Make yourself comfortable.

Thank you. I shall. That's better. The cool air certainly does feel nice on my cock. It's so hot right now. Look at it. Go on. Would you say it's more purple right now or more red?

\- Be-becoming more... um... purple, I’d say.

I think so, too. Especially at the tip. Ooh, look. Pre-come. It's so slick on my fingertips. Shame we can't produce enough to make it worth our while, isn't it. Dogs do, you know. They produce their own lube.

\- Is that so?

And it slicks their cocks so nicely. You'd think it might be one of the advantages of being a werewolf. Self-lubricating cocks. But I still have to use oils or creams.

\- ...Yes... that is a pity.

Beg pardon?

\- I say, it's a pity. Creams and oils tend to disguise the natural beauty.

You charmer! And look - you really are a charmer. It's getting harder already just from having you looking at it. Vain little bugger, ha-ha. Sticking straight up, it is. Preening for you. Look at the veins. Especially this one. I am most sensitive right on this vein, right here- oh, gods... and if I just gently pull the hairs here, that's just icing on the ca-ake..! I can't help it. I have to stroke myself. You don't mind, do you?

\- No. Please... go ahead...

Ah, thank you! That feels so good. One hand on my shaft, the other on my balls, just holding them gently, mind. I have to be in the mood for really rough play.

\- I'll remember that.

Like having my balls bound or my cock put into a harness. Would you like to do that to me sometime? You could make me crawl for you. You could probably make me come for you just by paddling me, did you know that? And when I shoot onto the floor, you could make me lick it up and that would be just about perfect.

\- Would it, now..?

Or I could do it to you. I think you might like that, being made into a whore. We could pretend you're an apprentice once more and I could crawl into your bed at night with my lustful demands. Would you huddle away from me and cry? Or would you spread your legs and beg me?

\- ... I don't know... which reaction would you prefer?

Right now? I don't know and I don't care. Look at my cock. See how I'm handling the foreskin? How I'm sliding it over the head and back. See how my cock is jumping in my hand? I'm close -

\- I see that.

So close. Watch me come!

\- I'm watching.

See me... look - look -Ahhhhhh....

\- Well, Lupin?

Well, what?

\- Aren't you going to lick that up?


	11. The Mirror Crack'd

It was past eleven o’clock in Grimmauld Place before Hermione was ready to finally call it a night. She sighed happily, holding a well-worn paperback to her chest, squirmed a little in glee while contemplating what delights the next night’s chapter would bring, marked her page and then stuffed the book beneath one corner of the mattress. Moving carefully, she kept an eye on Ginny, her roommate, making certain the other girl was still asleep before donning her night wrap and tying it closed about her waist. She doused the ball of blue flame that had so helpfully illuminated the pages of Jackie Collins’ Hollywood Wives and crept out the door and down the hall. Passing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room as stealthily as possible, she reached the stairs and began to climb.

The bathroom on the first floor still housed that murderous ghoul that had been giving everyone so much trouble trying to dislodge. The toilet on the second floor had no such lurking horror, but she kept her wand out just in case. She stepped a bit lively as she padded down the second floor hall. It was as if her bladder suddenly realized where she was off to. However, the loo was occupied.

Ron, she thought to herself. No telling how long _he’s_ going to be. Worse than a woman, that one is.

She hesitated a moment. Should she wait? Knock? Or just go up to the third floor? But Fred and George were on that floor. There really was no telling what sort of ‘fun’ item she’d find in _their_ loo. But she really had to go. She went up to the third floor.

Passing by the twins’ bedroom, Hermione heard muted muttering and a muffled explosion. Good, she thought to herself. They’re too busy to pester me. She reached the bathroom, locked the door, returned the toilet seat to its proper position, pulled up her nightgown and robe and sat. A moment later, she felt the urgency pass and she was able to enjoy, as she liked to term it, a ‘proper pee.’

When she was done, she closed the toilet lid and caught sight of herself in the mirror above the sink. Not for the first time did she wonder what she might look like with shorter hair, or even if she put it up once in a while. She began to fuss with her rather unruly hairstyle, checking one arrangement or another, and then she heard a low thump.

Fred? George? She frowned and froze, listening.

_Thump! Thump! Creak._

It wasn’t inside the bathroom; there were no magical creatures here. Except for me, of course, she thought. Going to the door, she quickly determined that no, Fred and George weren’t trying to scare her with any of their strange objects or ‘amusing’ illusions. The sound was coming from the mirror.

She thought another moment, still hearing the arrhythmic thumping and creaking. It was coming from the room on the other side of the wall with the mirror, she realized. That was Remus’s room.

Was he in danger? Hurt? Maybe something was attacking him and he needed help? What if he had heard her in the bathroom and was trying to signal her to do something? To help in some way? Or warn her?

But why would he need _her_ help? He was a master of Defense Against the Dark Arts, wasn’t he? The way he handled a wand, the kind way he dealt with the less-powerful students, the compliments he had always paid her. Naturally he would know he could count on her. Hadn’t she kept his lycanthropy a secret all of their third year? Yes. The kind, handsome, scholarly man would know he could rely on Miss Hermione Granger.

But she should check first, to be sure. There was no sense in barging into a potentially dangerous situation without knowing the lay of the land.

She raised her wand, cast a quick spell on the mirror, and was treated to a one-way view into Remus Lupin’s bedroom.

She gasped.

The man was definitely not alone, but he was also likely to neither be requesting her aid or signaling her of some impending danger.

She focused her eyes on what she wanted to see.

Remus’s bedroom had much the same sort of furniture as the other bedrooms: solid, heavy pieces rather well-worn and in need of good polishing. And a lamp on his bedside table, turned low. And a bed, backed up against the very wall she was looking through. She could see the backside of the headboard and someone’s white-knuckled hands gripping the top slat. She could see Remus Lupin’s bared chest, muscular and glistening with sweat, and his gentle, kind, emotive face, currently dripping sweat and twisted into an almost angry expression.

She knew exactly what he was doing, of course. Hadn’t she just been reading about the very same activity in her Muggle book? Her mouth went dry. He was having sex. Vigorous, athletic, inventive sex and not in the missionary position!

She stared at him, helpless to turn away, thoughts flooding her brain and each one vying for prominence in her mind.

This is what Remus Lupin’s body looks like beneath those ragged robes.

This is what Remus Lupin looks like having sex.

He enjoys having sex.

He has a great deal of hair on his chest.

Is that a result of his lycanthropy, or would he have that much hair anyway? I wonder if there’s a book on the subject.

It looks like his nipples have gone all pebbly.

His shoulders are straining.

He’s holding onto his partner’s hips or back or something.

I wish this spell carried through furniture!

His expression -! Fierce. Almost frightening.

But what would it be like to be the focus of that ferocity?

He’s still thrusting. He’s doing it almost madly, frenetically.

He’s leaning forward a bit. His hair just flops so adorably across his forehead. I want to smooth it back with my hand.

My heart’s beating so fast.

I must remember to breathe.

I wish he were doing that to me!

Lucky bint to be fucked by _him!_ She doesn’t deserve him. No one could understand him like I do.

I wish I could hear more than just this dull thump-thump-thumping! Maybe a secondary spell for audio?

Barely a dozen seconds had passed before Remus stiffened and his mouth opened in a – to Hermione – silent gasp. Then he leaned forward and straightened up again, this time bringing his partner back with him. They were kneeling on the bed, back to chest, one arm wrapped around the chest and the other stretched down in front and –

Holy Fucking Merlin!

He’s -!

With -!

Him -!

Then that means he was -!

And his _penis_ was -!

And his hand is now probably -!

And the other man stiffened, his face turned toward Remus’s neck, and Hermione saw a quick stream of white shoot toward her. She flinched back and the spell cut off. Panting with panic and the sudden surge of adrenaline, she stared at her startled expression and tried to think. Had they seen her? Did they know? Did they suspect?

No. No, they couldn’t know. They couldn’t tell. The spell was cast properly; she knew that without question. She’d cast it before, after all, and no one had ever known. And of course they’d be facing her. They were facing the headboard. It was only natural that – that – it would come toward her like that. It was going toward the headboard, toward the pillow.

Were they going to sleep on that pillow afterward?

Yech.

She had to get out of there. If she flushed the toilet now, they might realize someone was in there, they might suspect they were overheard, so she waited exactly two minutes, then turned on the water in the sink. She splashed her face, dried it, lifted the toilet seat lid and did other things as innocuously noisily as possible, so they’d think she’d just walked in there. Then she flushed, straightened her clothes, and walked out.

Fred and George were still doing whatever it was they did in their bedroom alone. Probably not what Remus does in his room, she thought to herself, then shuddered. _Good lord, I certainly hope not!_

Downstairs in her own bed, she pulled the covers up over her shoulder and aimed for sleep. In the morning, when she saw Remus again, she’d have to be certain to treat him no differently than she had any other morning. And when she saw… _him_ … she’d have to do the same. Although it would be difficult to do so, now that she’d seen him in the throes of a passionate orgasm.

She’d never even considered the possibility the man even had all the equipment, but she supposed that was a foolish mistake.

But… gay? Remus was gay? He was queer? Homosexual? And with… HIM? What was the world coming to?

Shaking her head, she curled up in her blankets and fell promptly asleep.


	12. Ten Minutes in Heaven

There’s a closet under the stairs in Number 12, Grimmauld Place, where Kingsley Shacklebolt had his first homosexual experience. After an Order meeting one evening, Kingsley and Remus Lupin were the last to depart the kitchen. Sirius had hounded Snape up to the upstairs hallway while the other members beat hasty retreats either to the sitting room or their own homes. Kingsley and Remus were left completely alone.

Remus sent all the teacups and glasses to the sink to wash while Kingsley returned uneaten biscuits to their respective boxes and tins in the pantry. When they were finished with their minor chores, Remus caught Kingsley’s eye.

“Where’re you off to now?” he asked. “Got a hot date? Or are you home to bed?”

“Er, well, I was thinking of a quick pint at the local and then home. I have a report to check over before I submit it in the morning. Sirius Black’s been seen in Romania, you know,” Kingsley said with a wink.

“Has he really?” Remus grinned. “But that sounds… lonely. Don’t you have a girl – or something – waiting somewhere for you to ring for a shag?”

Kingsley felt himself flush. “No, not really. I don’t… don’t date. I have other responsibilities, you know.”

Remus still smiled as he approached the tall, dark and handsome man. “Lucky for me, then.”

“What makes you say that?”

Very close to him, Remus slipped a hand over Kingsley’s clean-shaved head to the back of his neck. He tugged gently and Kingsley obediently leaned forward, the question still in his eyes.

“It means no one’s going to come looking to hex me for doing this.” Remus closed his eyes and pressed his lips to the other man’s.

Tremendously surprised, it was all Kingsley could do not to rear back in astonishment. He hadn’t been kissed in years and years it seemed, and the sweet pressure of the lycanthrope’s mouth on his was rain after drought. He moaned softly as Remus broke off the kiss.

“Was that all right?” he asked. “Are you angry with me, then?”

“No,” Kingsley breathed. “Not at all.” And he bent his neck once more to kiss Remus more thoroughly this time. Within moments, the two men were sliding their tongues inside each other’s mouths and were clutching at each other’s shoulders. A surprisingly large bulge pushed at Remus’s abdomen. He pressed back, luxuriating in the heat of the moment.

“Where… where can we go?” Remus panted, his head tipping back to allow the taller man access to his throat.

“My home’s too far,” Kingsley said. “Your room?”

“We’ll never get past all the Weasleys,” Remus said. “There’s a closet, isn’t there?”

“A closet?”

“Yes. Under the stairs. It’ll be perfect. Come on.”

Without waiting for Kingsley, Remus hurried up the steps to the main floor. The others had either left or were in the sitting room chit-chatting. With an adequate silencing spell, they’d never suspect a thing. He opened the closet door, shoved several dusty overcloaks to one side, then beckoned Kingsley to precede him into the musty interior.

Giving him a dubious look, Kingsley did as he was asked, turning to lean against the back wall. Remus followed him immediately after, closing the door behind him and casting the sound-dampening spell. In the darkness, all Kingsley could feel was the hard wall behind and the soft body in front of him. He leaned down to kiss Remus once more in the hopes of rekindling his earlier enthusiasm, but Remus had pulled open his shirt and was busy nibbling at his nipples.

Kingsley tried to give himself over to the moment, knowing that if he thought too much about what he was doing, with whom and where, he’d never become aroused enough. Then Remus knelt in front of him, unbuttoned his trousers and pulled out his half-hard prick.

“Oooh, come on, big fella,” Remus crooned softly. “Don’t you want to play?”

The heated breath on his prick, the soft touches and licks Remus bestowed on the velvety tip, all combined to interest Kingsley’s penis, if not Kingsley’s heart. He leaned back more securely against the wall, making himself more comfortable, and waited for the fellatio to begin in earnest. It didn’t take long, and while his heart was in no danger of engaging in the moment, his prick had no such concerns. He was rampant in no time and sliding down Remus’s hot, wet throat a second after that.

Kingsley stifled a gasp, allowing his hips to thrust against Remus’s face. He put one hand on Remus’s hair, forcing some kind of connection between them. He heard Remus groan, the slide of the other man’s lips over his skin and the occasional whimpers he emitted himself. Fortunately or not, he couldn’t see anything in the closet beyond a thin sliver of yellow light from where the door didn’t quite meet the jamb. He tried desperately to come quickly. The last thing he wanted was to hear Remus say something like ‘what’s taking so long – aren’t I sexy enough for you?’ like What’s-Her-Name did. So he conjured up enticing image after enticing image and eventually hit on one: four busty women giggling and cooing and taking turns riding up and down his flagpole.

That did it. He felt his balls tighten, he gasped, “I’m going to come,” and shot his load onto Remus’s tongue.

He decided he liked coming in someone’s mouth. It surely beat having to remember to get a tissue from the bureau beforehand.

Panting, Kingsley braced himself against the wall. Remus stood up after a moment, then pressed his still-hard cock against Kingsley’s thigh. He rubbed a little and asked softly, “Did you like that?”

“Mmm-hm,” Kingsley replied. He wasn’t about to tell the truth, that he would have preferred a bed, or even a chance to have a second thought. Had he really wanted to do something with Remus, or was it just on account of needing a sexual release – any sexual release? Would a good wank have done the same thing, in other words?

Remus kept rubbing. His hands drifted across Kingsley’s chest and he lifted his mouth to suck a bit on his neck.

“What about you?” Kingsley forced himself to ask. He supposed it was only polite to ask about reciprocation.

“Mmm… you any good at sucking?”

“No,” he replied. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

He felt Remus’s grin. “That’s okay,” he told him. “I can get off just fine like this. Hold me close, all right? Let me feel how strong you are.”

Kingsley embraced Remus as tightly as he dared. Remus straddled one of Kingsley’s thighs and began to hump him desperately, much like a dog would.

“Talk to me,” Remus said on a groan.

“I – um…” He wasn’t much good at that, either.

“Talk dirty to me,” Remus repeated. “Tell me what a slut I am.”

“You’re such a slut,” Kingsley said, his mind racing. What could he say? Then inspiration struck. “Always pulling strange men into dark closets, begging to suck them. You’re a good cocksucker, you know that? You must get a lot of practice. Is that what you did all those years before Dumbledore gave you a real job? Sucking off strange men for money? And is that why you really left the position at Hogwarts? Did you get caught sucking off one of the teachers in the staff room?”

Remus’s breath hitched and he began to hump more convulsively.

“Or one of the students?”

“A teacher,” Remus gasped. “It was a teacher.”

Was this the truth, Kingsley wondered? No – it couldn’t be. It was just part of this mutual fantasy he’d thought up.

“Which teacher was it?”

“…Severus…”

Indeed! Kingsley shoved his thigh harder against Remus’s crotch. “You were caught sucking off Severus Snape in the teacher’s lounge, were you? And was it worth it?”

“Yes… so worth it. He was so hot. On fire.”

“And you enjoyed having your mouth on his cock.”

Another gasp, then, “Yes!”

“Getting on your knees for him –“

“Yes!”

“Taking his come into your mouth, swallowing it down –“

“Oh, gods, yes!”

Remus’s hips drove faster and faster against Kingsley’s thigh until, with that last gasping ‘yes!’, he came in a shudder.

Kingsley held the smaller man close against his body until the last shakes subsided.

“Oh. Oh, wow,” Remus said when he finally pulled away. “That was… intense.”

Kingsley nodded, then asked, “How long have you had a thing for Snape?”

“Hm? What? Oh…”

It was dark, but Kingsley suspected the other man was blushing.

“Not… not long,” he said. “Only since I first saw him, I think.”

Relief flooded Kingsley’s body. Not only was this confirmed to be a one-off, but they were likely to remain good friends even after this interlude. “Does he know?” he asked.

“No. I don’t think so, anyway,” Remus said.

“You should tell him.”

“Why?”

“I think he’s lonely. He could use a friend.”

“Perhaps.” Remus moved back to the closet door. He put his hand on the knob, then turned, catching the single shaft of light and thereby illuminating his face. “We’re still friends, right?”

“Always,” he replied. “But I don’t think we should do this again.”

Remus laughed lightly. “That’s fine. You weren’t who I was thinking about, at any rate. That wasn’t fair to you.”

“No harm done, I assure you.”

Remus opened the closet door slightly, peeked outside, dropped the dampening spell and moved into the hallway. Kingsley followed and closed the door quietly.

Sirius stepped out from the sitting room. “Where have you two been?”

“Just cleaning up the kitchen,” Remus answered easily. “As we said we would.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Kingsley grasped Remus’s shoulder and said for his ears only, “Tell him soon. No one likes to be alone.”

“I will,” Remus replied with a smile. “And thank you for your time.”

“Anything for a friend.” He turned to Sirius and bid him goodnight.

Out on the front stoop, as the house melted away behind him, Kingsley shook his shoulders, freeing himself from the disturbing feeling that had plagued him since entering the closet with Remus a scarce twenty minutes ago. He might be a bit lonely himself, but at least he knew where not to look for that elusive love of his life. Unless he missed his guess, and the skilled Auror rarely did, Remus Lupin was desperately in love with Severus Snape. He’d have to observe the Potions Master to see if the feelings were returned.

He rather suspected they would be.


	13. I Think I Can! I Think I Can!

After the thirteenth man pulled out of him, semen splashing across his numbing buttocks, Remus sighed. Eight more to go. He hoped the next one did something more than the last one. That bloke couldn’t find a prostate to save his life. He doubted the idiot even knew one existed.

The fourteenth man climbed onto the bed. He smacked Remus’s arse with one open hand and shouted, “Hey! No falling asleep on me. I expect some action in return.”

Remus turned his head and stared up at the man through narrowed eyes. “What kind of action did you have in mind?” He felt a familiar thrill in his gut. This one could be interesting. 

The man just grinned. He had white, even teeth, tanned skin and dark blond hair. With obvious relish, he leaned close to Remus’s face and said, “You’re going to fuck _me_ , pretty boy. Use those arse muscles and squeeze the come out of me.” And then he pulled Remus’s arse-cheeks apart and shoved his thick cock inside.

“Squeeze me, boy! Come on, now! Don’t disappoint me!”

But Remus felt so tired already, he didn’t think he could do this man’s cock justice. He glanced up and caught Vlad’s amused grin. Remus shook his head, grinned in return, then focused on his internal muscles, trusting that this one would be worth the effort.

He began to clench in time with the man’s thrusts. They found a rhythm. The man found his prostate. He chanted, “That’s it, boy. Squeeze it hard. Milk that cock! Little whore with the gorgeous arse, that’s what you are. Come on, now. Fuck me back!” He slapped Remus’s buttocks a few more times with both hands. With each smack, Remus jerked, groaned, and clenched his arse tighter.

After a minute or two, Remus reared up a bit on the bed, using the pillow under his chest to increase his leverage. He forced his hips back to the man’s thick prick, feeling both sets of balls slap against each other, half wishing it would be over soon because his thighs were going a bit numb from all the strain and half wishing the guy would leave bruising fingerprints. His cock, not even close to going soft despite Number Thirteen’s questionable prowess, began re-stiffening, poking into the silken bolster underneath his hips. He was definitely going to come a fourth time and possibly a fifth before the last man was through with him. 

“That’s it -! That’s it -! Take it, boy. Here it comes – ahh!”

Remus barely felt the additional ejaculate or the man’s quivering cock, but he did feel the spill of fluid when the man withdrew. He imagined his buttocks were quite well sprayed with semen. He shivered, glorying in the mental image. He was so close! With each orgasm it became more challenging to achieve the next one, but each successive climax was so much better than the one before it, Remus figured it was worth the sticky, trembling thighs.

Vlad leaned close to Remus. “You still with me?”

Remus nodded quickly. Vlad would call it off if he thought Remus had any second thoughts.

Vlad smiled. “Happy 21st. Next!”

And the next man climbed up behind him, pinched his arse apart and shoved himself inside. Yes, Remus thought, he was doing quite well indeed.


	14. We May Never Pass This Way Again

On February 14th, 1977, Remus Lupin presented the love of his life with a Very Special Gift.

“They’re promise rings,” he said eagerly. “See? I got them for us. Well, obviously for us, but… I got them.”

Roland Goodbody, his boyfriend and lover for the past five months, smiled at him. “They’re beautiful, Remy. Er, should we just go ahead and put them on, or is there a ceremony or spell or something?”

Remus laughed. “No ceremony. It means just what it means for Muggle couples. We’re promising each other we’re going to be together forever. When you leave Hogwarts, I’ll have a place all set up for us. Maybe you can get away and spend Christmas hols with me next year.”

“That’d be bloody fantastic! I know my parents won’t say anything. They can’t even see Hogwarts. How would they know if I were here or not?”

“You’d still need permission to leave school grounds…”

“Then I’ll get permission,” Roland promised with a kiss. “I’ll tell them I want to stay with a wizard friend. They’ll let me go. You know how they are about magic. It makes them bloody uncomfortable. I’m sure my father’s just dying for me to finally leave home.”

“I’m so sorry about that,” Remus said, pulling Roland into an embrace.

The two boys had a spot on the roof of Ravenclaw Tower under a sheltering outcropping and away from prying eyes. Remus had discovered the place years before. No one else seemed to know it was there, besides the Marauders of course, and they gave the boys their privacy. Roland had brought up warm blankets and pillows for the evening’s date; Remus had supplied chocolate-covered strawberries and a bottle of champagne. Well, Sirius Black had obtained the champagne. They lay comfortably side by side staring up at the stars and the gibbous moon.

“I’ve got something for you, too,” Roland said shyly. He reached under the pallet of blankets and produced a photograph.

Remus took it curiously. It was a wizarding photograph. Remus gasped and flushed pink. It was a wizarding photograph of a nude Roland, stroking himself over and over until he spurted white across his stomach, and then stroking himself over and over again.

“Oh… oh, wow,” he breathed. “This is… this is _wild!_ When did you do this?”

“Just after Christmas,” Roland replied. “I set up the camera with a timer in my dorm room. It took me a while to get the developing potion just right.”

“It’s wonderful,” Remus said, putting the photo in a safe place out of reach after a last lingering look.

“Now you’ll have something to remember me by when you leave here.”

Remus rolled onto Roland, settling himself between his boyfriend’s legs. “I’ll never forget you. I love you, remember?” He bent his head forward, nuzzling the other boy’s neck, reveling in his musky cologne.

“I remember,” Roland said with a smile. “I love you, too.”

They kissed, open-mouthed and slowly, until their cocks couldn’t take it any longer and demanded attention. Remus moved down Roland’s well-defined chest and stomach, running his tongue along each and every muscle, until he reached his boyfriend’s twitching, purpling, eager cock.

“Mmm…” Remus said, licking his tongue up the shaft.

“Come on, Remy,” Roland said, sitting up. “I want to suck you, too.”

They swiftly moved into one of their favorite positions, head to cock and head to cock, Remus crouching over Roland’s body, his prick dangling in his boyfriend’s face. Roland lapped at the tip of Remus’s cock, laughing a bit as he watched it dip and sway with each swipe of tongue.

In response, Remus gripped Roland’s cock gently with his teeth and gave a warning growl. Roland laughed again, but gave up the teasing. He ran his hands over Remus’s hips to grab hold of his arse. He clenched the firm globes of flesh and pulled them toward him, his mouth open to receive the full length of Remus’s cock.

For several long minutes, both boys sucked and licked and nursed eagerly at each other. Roland bent his knees, bracing himself so that his hips could thrust as they needed to, up into Remus’s mouth. At almost the same time, Remus began thrusting his cock down Roland’s throat and his hands wrapped around his lover’s thighs. His body rested comfortably on Roland’s and they rocked in unison, seeking release, their syncopated moans the only thing they heard.

Remus’s orgasm triggered Roland’s. Both boys swallowed and though Remus slid off his lover’s body, the boys gently licked each other clean and soft.

“It’s a beautiful night, Remy,” Roland said after a long silence.

“It certainly is. And it’s just one of many more to come, I promise.”

Roland reached out and took Remus’s hand. He never did let go.


	15. Laughing Between Her Legs

A fifteen year old girl should have more privacy than this, Hermione thought angrily to herself. It wasn’t like she wanted to live completely alone. If anything, she understood the value of dormitory life, particularly since she was an only child herself. Living with Parvati and Lavender was supposed to teach her about respect for other people’s personal space. Unfortunately, it wasn’t teaching either of them anything of the sort.

She lay in her bed, drapes closed, Crookshanks curled up to the headboard, and tried her best to ignore the sounds of the other two girls giggling and screeching their way through yet another rundown of who were the cutest boys in school. Or something like that. For heaven’s sake, she mentally groaned, they hadn’t even been back for forty-eight hours! They’d only had the one day of class! Weren’t they tired? Why wouldn’t they just go to sleep? Talk about it in the morning, say, when she didn’t have to hear them because she’d be starting her O.W.L. study schedule?

“Oi, Hermione!”

Her eyes flew open as the bed curtains abruptly parted. “What is it, Lavender? I’m trying to sleep!”

“It’s not even midnight yet,” Lavender protested with an amazed stare. “Besides, we need to know. Who would you shag: Crabbe or Goyle?”

“What? Why would I shag either of them?”

“It’s just a game,” Parvati said from her perch on the end of Lavender’s bed. “You have to shag one of them. Which one do you do? I say Crabbe because he has nice eyes.”

“While I say Goyle’s got to have a big cock. What do you think?”

Hermione just stared at the two of them for a long moment. Finally, she breathed a frustrated groan and said, “I’d kill myself first. Now leave me alone.”

Lavender giggled. “That’s not an option.” 

“What isn’t? Killing myself or you leaving me alone?”

“Come on, Hermione. Just answer the question. Be a sport.”

“Fine.” She thought about it. She’d really prefer not to do either of them, but if it would get the girls off her back, she’d have to reply, “Crabbe. At least he seems to have a brain.”

Both girls burst out laughing. “Hermione! It’s not his _brain_ you’d be shagging!” Lavender said, sending Parvati into further peals. “If it’s brains you want, which one: Snape or Dumbledore?”

Hermione couldn’t help the shudder. “Dumbledore, please! At least he’d give me sweets after.”

All three girls laughed at that. Hermione rolled onto her side, facing the other two. This wasn’t turning out so bad after all. “I’ve got one,” she said with a wicked grin. “Snape… or Filch!”

A loud chorus of _Ewwwwwww_ reverberated through the room. Lavender collapsed on her bed. Crookshanks meowed imperiously as he leapt off Hermione’s pillow.

Parvati and Lavender settled down a minute to decide. “Snape,” Parvati said. “At least he’s a real wizard.”

“Definitely Snape,” Lavender agreed. “He’s younger, too.”

“Although the whips and chains could be fun,” Parvati commented impishly.

“Okay, here’s another one. Hagrid or –“

Just then, the door to their room burst open and a most displeased McGonagall, wearing her usual tartan dressing gown and slippers, entered. “Girls! It is well past curfew. Must I remind you to get some sleep? It is vital that you get enough rest so that you do not fall asleep in class. With the Ministry watching over us so closely, we must do all we can to shine academically. Is that understood?”

Parvati slid off Lavender’s bed and climbed into her own, murmuring, “Sorry, Professor McGonagall.”

“Sorry, Professor,” Lavender echoed.

Hermione opened her mouth to apologize as well, but caught Professor McGonagall’s ‘I am extremely disappointed in you especially, Miss Granger’ look and decided against it. McGonagall waited until the drapes were closed and the lights doused before closing the dormitory door. Hermione felt Crookshanks climb back into bed and knew that somehow, her cat had been the one to inform on them.

She lay in the darkness and wondered. Hagrid or who? Then she thought again about her previous choice of Snape or Dumbledore. She knew it would never be Snape, not after the summer she had had at Grimmauld Place! No, her tastes ran in an entirely different direction.

It was a shame about Professor Lupin, though. She sighed and stretched onto her back, her legs parting naturally. She heard the regular breathing of the other two girls and knew they were falling fast asleep. She slipped her hand up under Crookshanks’ pillow and retrieved her wand. A quick spell later and she was surrounded by a sound-dampening field. She checked it with a loud, hacking cough. The girls did not wake up.

Hermione snuggled back under the covers and slipped her hands under her pajama top. Her fingers found her breasts. She rubbed her palms lightly over the tips, marveling at how quickly they became nubbly peaks. Slowly, she moved her right hand down her stomach. She twirled her pinky finger in her navel, delighting in the sensation. She grinned and let her mind drift through several possible fantasies.

Hmm, she thought. Ron? She had caught him coming out of the bathroom once at Grimmauld Place. He’d just been taking a shower and hadn’t yet put on a shirt. He’d had a surprisingly developed chest, for a teenage boy.

But not Ron.

Snape or Dumbledore? The question came to her once more and her mind shuddered away from that thought once again. No – she definitely did not like men with beards! And Snape -! 

She imagined Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School, totally naked.

The image failed to arouse her.

But Remus Lupin’s did. That hairy chest, those muscled arms, the gentle face, the absolute devotion he would show her. He’d kiss her tenderly, hold her firmly in his arms, whisper sweet nothings – whatever those were – in her ear. She’d sense his wolf-ness, his animal nature, and she’d encourage him to express himself. He’d be safe with her – only with her. She could handle a few nips to her shoulders –

_she scratched her shoulder_

She could handle him suckling at her breast –

_she pinched her left nipple hard, gasping softly_

He would stretch out beside her, his long legs tangling with hers, his arousal pressing politely, and yet urgently, into her side – 

_she rubbed the outside of her right thigh_

And he would climb on top of her, settling his hips between her thighs –

_she spread her legs wide, her hips automatically tilting up, her hand slipped to the softness on the innermost portion of her uppermost thigh_

And he would caress her _there_ and he would know exactly where to touch her, how hard and how quickly and when to slide a finger along the folds and when to tap and when to stretch her –

_and her fingers followed suit, fumbling a bit on purpose because he would fumble the first time_

She hadn’t always been able to achieve completion this way, though she hadn’t always realized that fact. As in most things, she read about it in a book. It wasn’t until June when she’d picked up a copy of an American Muggle novel, The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison that she’d realized something was missing in her furtive nighttime activities. In that book, one of the characters described orgasm as “ _laughing between (her) legs_.” Hermione had never ‘laughed between her legs’ and that night when she rubbed herself, she did not stop when she started feeling pleasure, she kept on going – and then she felt _**pleasure**_ beyond expectation. It embarrassed her to realize that her previously-held belief that she regularly achieved orgasm through masturbation was wildly incorrect. Within days, she had perfected her technique. As it happened, Dream-Remus was a master at this technique.

She imagined him, growling and panting in her ear, his face twisting into a bit of an angry frown as he entered her –

_she pushed two fingers into her wet, aching hole_

Just like that July night in Grimmauld Place when she’d seen Remus with – with _him_. He’d been almost violent, almost ferocious in his expression and in the frantic movements of his body.

And when her imagination supplied _his_ countenance as well. Dream-Remus greeted him with more enthusiasm –

NO!

Sirius – Sirius was good looking, too. Young Sirius, as in Harry’s photograph album, yes, he was gorgeous. Sirius was there, too, and he and Remus were both interested in her. She had two breasts, after all, and if one dark head bent to suckle at her nipple while the other stroked a hand along his back, well…

YES!

They were both there, panting and lusting after her. Remus thrust into her and then Sirius, anxious and whining a bit with jealousy, decided to join in, only he climbed onto Remus’s back and – and –

Every shove of Sirius’s hips sent Remus’s hips harder into her –

_she slammed three fingers inside herself and mercilessly stimulated her quivering clit_

And they both groaned and they both avidly watched her and they both had a hand on her breasts and they both called out her name in glorious agony and –

_she came and she came and she came_

Hermione stretched luxuriously in her bed, a lazy smile on her lips. Her fingers were more than a bit wet. Crookshanks leaned over and sniffed at her hand. His rough tongue licked at her forefinger, then delicately began washing her clean. She fell asleep soon after, comforted by the tender way her cat was treating her.

Though it changed form from time to time, that fantasy lasted Hermione well into her adulthood until the time the thought of those particular two men doing anything sexual together seemed impossible, unlikely and unforgivably disloyal to the one man to whom Remus Lupin ended up tying his happiness.


	16. A Whiter Shade of Pale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised this chapter contains violence, hate speech, hypocrisy and gloom.

_…one of sixteen vestal virgins… who were leaving for the coast…_

Remus nodded along with the slow beat of the rather melancholy melody, his hair hanging carelessly in his eyes, his eyes staring sightlessly past his empty pint of Guinness. He sat at one end of the bar, ignored by most of the patrons, alone with his misery.

Roland had died that morning.

No. Roland had been _murdered_. Remus mustn’t forget that. He’d been brutally murdered by ‘person or persons unknown,’ as the Aurors put it, even though it was painfully obvious, to Remus at least, who those persons were.

Blood Purists.

Death Eaters.

His enemies.

Roland should have been safe. He was in their apartment, fixing dinner, waiting for Remus to come back from the shop with the Christmas ham. That tiny little flat, decorated to the ceiling with evergreen boughs and tiny twinkling lights, where they were going to share the holiday, just the two of them, alone and in love. Then they were going to James and Lily’s house for their ‘First Annual Holiday Extravaganza’ and exchange gifts with Remus’s best friends and it was going to be lovely and perfect and everything the two of them had ever wanted in life.

Instead, Remus returned home with the ham in hand to find blood-smeared walls and a barely-living Roland. The bloody words on the walls and furnishings, _Blood Traitors_ , _Degenerates_ , _Filthy Perversion_ and _Immorality = Death_ , had alternately angered, amused and frightened Remus. He took little heed of the messages at first, thinking only of making an emergency Portkey to St. Mungo’s and getting Roland immediate treatment.

The Healers worked on him through the night, but there was simply too much blood and viscera removed for them to replenish the materiel swiftly enough. He died just after dawn, surrounded by the Healers, Remus in the hallway alone. In his grief and pain, he’d neglected to contact any of his friends, figuring to do so once Roland’s prognosis had been determined.

He’d Apparated to the Potter house after contacting Roland’s family. As he was not an immediate relative of Roland’s, it was up to them to retrieve the body and arrange for the funeral. They’d never been fond of Remus, nor of their son’s homosexuality, and they made no secret that he was unwelcome to have any further contact with the family whatsoever. James and Lily were as comforting as they could be, but they were scheduled to spend some holiday time with her parents in Surrey; Remus left to go back to his own home, agreeing to come to their home the next morning and spend the next several days at their flat.

Removing bloodstains only required a simple spell, and one in which Remus was quite well versed. However, the prospect of removing his lover’s blood from what should have become their first home together, overwhelmed Remus, sending him into Muggle London for a surcease to his sorrow.

He found it in four pints of Guinness and the Moody Blues.

And then he was found in turn.

“Anyone sitting here?” The gruff voice startled Remus. He turned, glanced around the half-empty bar, and shook his head. The gruff-voiced man, burly, hairy, dressed in work clothes, sat on the stool next to him. He ordered a pint of something draft, then turned to Remus. “You’re here alone, then?”

Remus nodded. He drank the last of his Guinness and signaled for a refill.

The other man dropped a few pounds on the bar. “I’ve got this round.”

“Thanks.” Remus took a long pull from the glass. He wiped his mouth and said, “Yeah. I’m alone.” He felt the beer swirl in his stomach, mix with his grief and threaten to consume him. For a long moment, he realized he might never leave this bar stool. Why would he need to? No one out there loved him, not anymore. There would never be anyone as perfectly matched for him as Roland. They both loved books, scholarship, the theory of why magic worked rather than the ‘ooo’ factor of it working. And they loved the same things in life: sunny rooms, long afternoons lounging in bed, omelets with tomatoes and cheese.

Remus felt sick. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, sliding off the stool. The floor tilted as he moved toward the public loo, but he made it inside and to the urinal. He managed on the second try to unzip his pants and he aimed mostly accurately for the drain.

The bathroom door opened and the gruff-voiced man came in. Naturally, Remus did not look in the other man’s direction. That was Entry-Level Bathroom Etiquette. There were three urinals in a row; Remus had the one in the far corner. The gruff-voiced man chose the one in the middle. That was a violation of Entry-Level Bathroom Etiquette.

Unnerved and still feeling a bit woozy, Remus glanced over at the gruff-voiced man. He had his own cock in his hand and was shaking off the drop or two of piss when he turned to Remus and said, gruffly, “You want to suck it?”

Remus hesitated. He glanced up at the other man. He seemed sincere enough. There was that hint of lust in his eyes and the whiff of something approaching arousal in the air.

“Sure. Why not.”

Remus dropped to his knees and opened his mouth. After all, his life was over now. What did it matter if he sucked off some strange man in a rather slimy bathroom? It wasn’t going to hurt Roland one bit. And it wasn’t going to hurt Remus, either.

Roland and Remus had discussed the probability that one would outlive the other. ‘When and if that happens,’ Roland had said one dark night, ‘I want you to promise me you’ll find someone new to love. You won’t follow me into the grave.’ Remus had promised, despite knowing the fact that he’d never find anyone to love the way he loved Roland. Some tiny part of his brain insisted that this was what Roland really meant: don’t stop having sex just because I’m not around any longer.

The gruff-voiced man was still half-hard, the tip barely peeking out past the foreskin, despite Remus’s rote suck-suck-lick-stroke-suck routine. Wondering what the man’s problem might be, after all this was his idea in the first place, he glanced up.

The man’s eyes were closed and he was mumbling something. Remus strained his ears to hear. It sounded like, “Suck me…. Suck me dry… that’s it, pretty little cocksucker… little whore…”

Remus mentally shrugged. If the other man got off on dirty talk, that was fine with him. Then the other man’s eyes opened wide and he appeared startled to see Remus looking up at him. He grabbed hold of Remus’s head and began forcing him back and forth along his cock, bruising his lips and throat with each thrust, his muttering increasing in volume. “Suck it! Suck it good. You know you want it. You want my fat prick. You want all the pricks. You want them one after another down your filthy mouth, don’t you. You think you can turn me into a queer just like you, don’t you. Well, you’re wrong. I’m no queer. You are. You-“

Remus pulled off the cock long enough to say, “I beg your pardon, but you’re just as much a-“

_**SLAPPPP!!** _

The man’s hand shot out and smacked Remus hard across the jaw, throwing him to the tiled floor. Stunned, Remus could barely react before the man began kicking him hard in the stomach.

“You little tramp! How dare you speak to me! I’m not like you,” he shouted. “You queers are all alike. You think you can make us real men into poofters like you? Well, you’re wrong! I’ll never be like you. Never!”

Remus choked and gasped. He tasted blood in his mouth and heard a rib crack. He’d immediately curled up, hoping to protect his vital organs from the man’s work boots, wishing the man would leave or that someone – anyone would hear the commotion and investigate.

Someone did.

The bathroom door opened and a cheerful voice asked, “Is everything all right in here?” The man stepped inside and looked calmly at the two. Remus lifted his head and tried to gauge if this newcomer were friend or foe.

The gruff-voiced man took several steps back, pointed at Remus and growled, “He’s a cock-sucking queer. Be careful, or he’ll turn you into one of them!”

The other man merely raised his eyebrows, looked pointedly at the man’s unzipped jeans, and said, “Is that so? What does he do if you’re already a queer? Turn you straight? If so, I know a few birds who could help you out.”

The gruff-voiced man blanched white, zipped up his jeans and bolted out the door.

Remus sighed in relief, but still regarded the newcomer with a wary eye.

“You all right?” the man said. He ripped off a section of toweling from the box on the wall, ran it under the faucet and crouched by Remus’s side. “Did he hurt you badly?”

“Not… sure,” Remus replied, sitting up.

“Go easy, mate,” the man said, helping him balance. “You’re in no fit condition.”

“Thanks, but I’ll manage.” Using the wall and the other man, Remus stood. He immediately regretted it when he vomited most of his Guinness into the nearest sink.

The other man patted Remus on the back and ran the water for him. “Feeling better now?”

Remus nodded and took the wet toweling from the other man. “Thanks again.”

“No worries,” he said, with a trace of an Australian accent. “I saw you at the bar, drowning your sorrows when that blighter started winding you up. I didn’t think you’d take him up on anything. What was it, the Papa Bear vibe?”

“Huh?”

He grinned. “The Papa Bear vibe. You know. All that hair and the muscles.”

“Oh. Uh, no,” Remus said. “He didn’t actually say anything to me about anything until we got in here.”

The other man nodded. “Followed you in. See, that’s what made me suspicious. I didn’t like the look in his eyes.”

“Well, I’m grateful you came in when you did. I don’t know what that bloke’s problem was.”

“He’s a queer in denial,” the man said with a shrug. “It happens.”

“You think?”

And then he laughed. “Why else would he let you suck him off?”

“He asked me.”

And then he turned curious. “And why did you?”

Remus sighed. “That’s a long story.”

He shrugged. “I’ve got time. And money for coffee, if you like.”

Remus thought for a moment. He didn’t really have anywhere else to go. “I may as well.”

“Great,” the man said, holding out his hand. “By the way, I’m Vladimir, but my friends call me ‘Vlad’.”

Remus hesitated only for a second before shaking his hand and replying, “My name’s John.”

Vlad smiled and clapped a hand on Remus’s shoulder. “Let’s get out of here, John. I know an all-night diner. You can tell me your life’s story and maybe we can figure out just where you went wrong tonight, hm?”

“That really won’t take as long as you might think.” Remus followed him out the door.


	17. Cheating Ourselves at Solitaire

He learned the truth at seventeen that love was meant for everyone but him. He knew they were together. Everyone knew it. It couldn’t have been more obvious. They held hands, they studied in the library together, they went to Hogsmeade together.

_That could have been me._

He’d gotten used to spying on people, following them around without their realizing it, figuring out their petty secrets and lies. It was maybe his only talent, outside Dark spells and potions-making.

_Not much of a talent. Who’s going to pay me to hex people? And what kind of life is it to dole out anti-wrinkle creams to old biddies who deserve every line on their face?_

He’d only really been caught out once, and he’d paid for that mistake. He still had no idea how they always seemed to know he was there. Even when he wasn’t trying to follow them, they knew where he was. They always knew. It was like _they_ were spying on _him_.

_It’s not fair. If they didn’t have anything to hide, I wouldn’t have any reason to spy on them in the first place. And whose bright idea was it to hide a werewolf on campus, anyway? Idiot Headmaster’s, that’s who. I suppose if I got bit, he’d still not take points away from Gryffindor._

He went over his notes that last summer at home and came to a startling conclusion.

_I should have known far earlier that Lupin was a werewolf, if only I’d paid more attention to the calendar. I’m such an idiot. Can’t do anything right. Father was right. I deserve to be an outcast._

He also realized something else.

_They only catch up to me when either Sirius or James are there, or at least three of them are together. On their own, Pettigrew and Lupin have never surprised me._

He therefore decided to shift focus to the lesser of the quartet. Maybe he’d figure out the rest of their secrets.

_It’s as good a plan as any._

About a month after school started, it became known from a discussion in Ancient Runes that Remus Lupin was gay. Everyone already suspected it about Roland Goodbody, one of the Sixth Years in the class. Ancient Runes was one of the subjects which combined Sixth and Seventh year students together. They had been paired together that year.

_Should have been me. Would have been me, if only I hadn’t made a fuss about it last term._

He’d been Remus’s Runes partner since Third Year, but after the Incident, as it became known in his mind, he couldn’t seem to force himself to be even slightly polite to the other boy. Hence, the two were separated in class and, in the fall term, were assigned new partners. His was Bertha Jorkins, an idiot girl if ever there was one and the acknowledged school gossip. Somehow, she had known that Goodbody was gay long before it was common knowledge, but even she had been surprised about Remus Lupin. “He’s a quiet one,” was all she’d say on that subject.

_I don’t want to know what she’s telling people about me. Not that it requires much imagination to figure it out._

After several weeks watching the two giggle and tease each other in class, in the library, in the Great Hall, under the oaks on the lawn, in Hogsmeade, at Quidditch games (except for the Ravenclaw games, of course) –

_But Lupin was always there in the Gryffindor section sporting Goodbody’s Ravenclaw scarf and cheering on his Chaser boyfriend._

\- he finally found his opportunity. It was after Ravenclaw team practice. The entire team save for Goodbody himself had left the locker room. He watched as Lupin went up to the blue and silver door, knocked twice and was let in by Goodbody. He watched as the two of them kissed and embraced, Goodbody’s hands on Lupins arse.

_Disgusting display._

There was a mirror in the Slytherin locker room that, with the proper incantation, allowed a person to spy on the other teams’ locker rooms. How he learned of that particular fact involved several favors and three separate Polyjuice potions, but the secret – and permission to be in the locker room despite not being on the team – was his.

_Now… which one was the Ravenclaw mirror? Ah, yes. The third one from the left._

He cast the charm, said the password, and immediately the Ravenclaw locker room was revealed to him.

_Where are they? Oh… oh, wow…_

Lupin was quite nude, while Goodbody had removed only selected parts of his Quidditch uniform. His shirt was gone, but his outer robe hung off his shoulders, displaying his muscled chest to perfection. Lupin was on his knees, sucking at Goodbody’s surprisingly long cock; both boys moaned unreservedly.

_Merlin! That’s…_

His hand moved to push aside his student robes. He found his cock, rampant and eager, and began to stroke it, hoping against hope that the scene would continue and that he could outlast them. He wanted to come when they did and not before.

_Go slower, Lupin! That’s it – take your mouth off it. Let me see it…_

After a last, long, slow lick from root to tip, Remus stood, smiling lazily at his lover while striding backwards across the locker room to the benches. Still smiling, he lay on his back, his arms out to his sides, his legs on either side of the narrow wooden slats, his cock and balls proudly displayed. As if entranced, Goodbody pulled his gloves tighter on his hands and strode toward Lupin.

_Oh, god – they’re going to fuck! Right in front of me!_

Goodbody straddled the bench, his knees brushing up against Lupin’s, and produced a pot of cream from somewhere. With one hand grasping Lupin’s straining cock, he slipped a lubricated pair of fingers below Lupin’s bollocks and pushed forward.

_They’re really going to fuck -! Oh, Merlin. Let me hold out long enough, please!_

He watched as Goodbody prepared Lupin’s arse for further penetration. The two were whispering to each other, ‘This feel good? This okay?’ was answered with ‘So good – don’t stop – love you so much.’

_Stupid sentimentality. Just fuck and be done with it. Who cares if you love each other? That only means you’re weak and pathetic._

After a few moments – and he was surprised they didn’t take longer – Goodbody had pulled Lupin’s legs up over his shoulders, positioned his cock and shoved in. He watched as Lupin’s head flew back, exposing his throat. Lupin had shouted, but now he was whispering, ‘don’t stop – feels so good’ and Goodbody was panting harshly. He stroked a gloved hand down Remus’s chest, then latched onto the other boy’s cock and began to fuck him, all the while steadily stroking his cock.

_Look at his muscles clench – what a perfect arse. And those shoulders! Remus is so lucky to have that perfectly bronzed body for him alone. Even that strip of white across his buttocks is rather eye-catching._

Both boys were gasping, beyond coherent. Goodbody, half standing, half crouched over Lupin’s body was thrust-thrusting hard-harder and Lupin was straining, his arms braced on the board above his head, his hips lifting with every thrust; they were united in their goal, almost there –

_Oh, gods, oh, gods._

\- when Lupin came, white fluid bubbling from his cock, and Goodbody came, his shout of completion echoing through both locker rooms, and then he came, his semen shooting onto the yellowing porcelain of the Slytherin locker room sinks. While Goodbody and Lupin held each other, murmuring quietly and gently kissing, he washed himself off and straightened his robes. He released the charm on the mirror before he exited into the cool evening.

_Damn it all to hell. That should have been me._


	18. Friends and Lovers

“All the boys are at least eighteen,” Remus promised. “They have to be. It’s the law.”

Snape harrumphed. “If you say so.”

“I do. And there’s a sign posted confirming that,” he went on. “Right over there. See it? They’ll even give you a pamphlet containing the same information, if you’re so worried about it.”

“I’m not.”

“Because the place will be shut down if they violate the law.”

“I understand that, Lupin. But eighteen? That’s so… young.”

“I know,” he agreed. “Their age of consent laws are different from ours. Which is why we’re here in Nevada and not in home. And it’s legal here, so don’t start raising objections on that score, all right?”

Snape sighed. “Very well.” Why he had agreed to this, he’d never know, but here he was, sitting with Remus Lupin in the comfortably decorated downstairs parlor of one ‘Lady Heather,’ waiting for the titular head of the establishment to meet with them. It was entirely Lupin’s idea to come here, and where he got the money for the International Portkey or for Lady Heather’s itself, Snape had no idea. It was probably Black’s money, he thought sourly. I’m literally fucking it away. The second thought cheered him enough to wait patiently for the next thirty seconds until the door opened and Lady Heather arrived. They stood up.

“Please excuse my tardiness,” the throaty-voiced woman said first. “My previous tasks took a bit longer than I had anticipated.” She regarded them, her red lips spreading in a cat-eating-cream smile. She had long black hair that fell smoothly down her back in waves and wore a snug, black jumpsuit that displayed her breasts and narrow waist perfectly. “Mr. Lupin, I presume?” she said, directing her question to the lycanthrope.

“Indeed, yes, Lady Heather,” he replied. He extended his hand to her. “And this is Severus Snape, my friend.”

“’Friend’?” she repeated. She shook Snape’s hand, looking directly into his eyes and greeting him warmly.

Snape glanced at Lupin. “Friend,” he confirmed. No, they were not going down any road but that one. Snape had lost his chance for anything more with his behavior after that first time in Grimmauld Place. He knew it and he was resigned to it.

Lady Heather nodded. She turned to Lupin. “After speaking with you the other day, I took the liberty of selecting one of my best employees. If you’d care to see his portfolio.” She gestured behind her where a young blonde woman stood bearing a folder on upraised palms.

“Certainly. Thank you,” Lupin said to Lady Heather. He took the folder from the woman and opened it. “Oh, yes. He’s quite charming.”

“I’m glad you approve,” Lady Heather said sincerely. “Gary is one of my busiest employees. He has a rare talent for giving pleasure.”

Snape felt distinctly uncomfortable. The two of them had been discussing this before now? Well, of course they were, he told himself sternly. You can’t expect this to have all just been a whim? It required research, planning, negotiation. Just because everyone in this room knows exactly what you’re intending to be doing with some stranger for the evening is nothing to be embarrassed about. That’s why these places exist and that’s why men come to them: for just what you’re going to be doing with some hopefully decent looking stranger. He did not dare to hope that they were telling the truth, that this ‘Gary’ were some highly in-demand stud, or that he was anything special in the pleasure department. Likely, this was all Lady Heather’s sales pitch and not meant to be taken literally. No, Lupin would have told her all about him. ‘He’s nothing special in the looks department, so he doesn’t need anyone too good looking,’ he would have said. And Lady Heather would have replied, ‘I have just the one. He’s a bit older, and he’s not all that desirable any longer for the majority of my customers. He usually wears a mask and they can’t tell the difference anyway.’

“Take a look, Severus,” Lupin said. “It’s up to you, after all.”

Unnerved, Snape took the folder. He ignored Lady Heather's politely interested expression and read the information.

_Name: Gary Phelps  
Age: 20_

He glanced at the photograph. Gary Phelps appeared to be an exceptionally beautiful young man. He had short, dark hair that was styled in a rather aggressive fashion Snape often saw on young Muggle men who wore business suits and spoke on cell-o-phones. He had dark blue eyes, a straight nose, and slender eyebrows that arched elegantly. His cheekbones were perfectly angled and his lips… his lips were full, plump and smiling. Then he winked.

“A wizard?” Snape said without thinking.

Lady Heather kept smiling. “This is a mixed establishment, Mr. Snape. The Muggle and magical world is more loosely integrated in the States than in the UK, I’m given to understand. Everyone at Lady Heather’s is aware of the differences and we don’t discriminate against anyone, patron or otherwise. We also don’t advertise, but rely upon word of mouth, which is how Mr. Lupin found us. Gary is a wizard, but I’m afraid he’s a rather poor one.”

“A Squib?”

“I am unfamiliar with the term.”

“It means,” Lupin said, jumping into the conversation, “that he was born to magical parents and yet possesses little or no magic himself.”

“I see,” she said. “Then no, not really. He has power, he simply prefers not to use it very often and so, his spell-casting, when he does, is rarely accurate. Is this going to be a problem, Mr. Snape?”

“No,” he replied. “I was simply surprised by it.” He looked back at the photograph. Gary grinned up at him, displaying a perfect dimple in his right cheek and a gleaming row of white, even teeth.

Lady Heather motioned to Lupin and they drew off a short distance. “I have spoken to Gary about your requests. He’s amenable to them, of course. Would you like to meet him first? Assuage any second thoughts?”

“Thank you, I would,” Lupin said gratefully. He glanced at Snape, who had retaken his chair and was avidly reading the profile in the folder.

Lady Heather gestured to the blonde woman, who bowed and exited the room. A moment later, Gary Phelps walked in.

Gary was almost six feet tall and broad-shouldered. He moved athletically, confidently. He smiled upon seeing Lupin standing there. He immediately put out his hand. “I’m Gary,” he said, his voice soft and deep. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Gary wore soft, buff-colored trousers that tied loosely around his waist. A medium-blue sleeveless vest hung open, revealing the man’s sculpted and hairless chest, abdomen and arms. He was also barefoot and smelled enticingly of ‘freshly showered male.’

Lupin was struck with the sudden attraction he felt for the younger man. In all his negotiations with Lady Heather, he’d never thought to acquire some time with someone for himself. For an instant, he thought to cancel his plans and spend the next two hours exploring this luscious man’s body himself – but an instant later, he remembered Snape and he tamped firmly on that desire. Besides, he hadn’t borrowed enough money from Sirius’s accounts to pay for a session for himself.

“This is Mr. Lupin,” Lady Heather said smoothly.

“Oh,” Gary said, and if his disappointment was real or feigned, Lupin could not have said.

He is good, Lupin thought. I hope he’s as good an actor with Snape.

Lady Heather gestured to Snape with a raised arm. “Mr. Snape? May I introduce you to Gary?”

Snape looked up reluctantly. There were more pictures in the folder besides the one of Gary’s face. There were several nudes, a close up of Gary’s buttocks and one of his penis moving from flaccid state to full erection. He could have stared at those pictures for hours and not cared. But there, standing in front of him, was the man himself, and that was better. And also worse. If he could see Gary, then Gary could see him.

This was a mistake.

He stood, about to speak his apologies – he was suddenly taken ill, he remembered an appointment, he didn’t like the looks of the man – when Gary smiled at him.

“Mr. Snape?” Lady Heather called softly. “This is Gary. Gary, your guest, Mr. Snape.”

Gary held out his hand. Snape took it automatically. Gary had a strong grip and a warm hand. Snape felt a shock of _want_ shoot through his body and he felt himself tighten. Because they were in the States, he and Lupin wore Muggle-style clothes. He willed himself not to look down to see if his erection was apparent to anyone else. If only he had been able to keep his robes on!

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Snape,” Gary said easily. “If you’re ready, my room is just upstairs.”

“That will be acceptable,” he replied, immediately hating the automatic retreat into stilted formality. He allowed Remus to retrieve the folder from his grasp.

Gary blinked a bit at his tone, but recovered well. “Right this way,” he said, leading the way through the door to the understated luxury of the entrance hall with its curving staircase. As they moved to the second floor, Gary made small talk about England (I’ve never been, but hear it’s beautiful – what part of it were you born in?) which Snape helped along by way of one-word answers (London). Occasionally, they heard a shrieking scream, but as Gary ignored it, Snape did, too.

They moved along a candlelit corridor to the end. Gary produced a card from somewhere, slid it through a box above the doorknob, and Snape heard a muffled click. Gary pushed open the door. “After you,” he said.

Age before beauty, Snape thought to himself, but he entered the room. It was a bedroom, of course. A large, sturdy, walnut four-poster dominated the room, although there was a low matching dresser and an oversized mirror, a bedside table, a pair of comfortable chairs upholstered in dark green and purple, and a wardrobe against the wall. Several pillows, green and purple and blue and pink, in various shapes and sizes sat plumped on the bed. Each surface sported an elegant bouquet of flowers, scenting the room with their delicate perfume. Snape’s booted feet sunk into the plush hunter green carpet. It was an exceedingly comfortable room.

Gary closed the door behind them, locking it discreetly. Snape felt his earlier nerves settle hard in his stomach. “This is… this is a nice room,” he said.

“I’d say ‘thank you,’” Gary replied, “but it’s all Lady Heather’s doing. Unlike most gay men, it seems, I don’t know the first thing about how to put a room together.”

“So you are? Gay, I mean?”

“As a three-dollar bill,” he said. “Is that important to you?”

“That you’re gay?” Snape shrugged. “It… helps.” It meant he wasn’t forcing this young man to do something so completely contrary to his personal preferences. It helped a lot.

They hadn’t moved from their positions. Snape still faced the bed and Gary still faced Snape’s back. There was a brief pause, then Gary said, “Would you like a drink? There’s liquor in the cabinet, or I could send for something.”

“No. Thank you, I’m fine.”

“Would you like to sit down?” Gary tried again.

Snape couldn’t answer. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him _This is wrong! Get out now! This is a trap! Flee! This is not for you!_. He felt Gary’s hands on his shoulders. He startled, but the hands remained. They began to rub gently, easing some of the tension.

“Relax,” Gary said softly. “There’s no need for all this tension. We have all the time in the world.”

“We have two hours,” Snape corrected. He sensed Gary’s amusement.

“Very well. But it’s a long two hours. A lot can happen.” He leaned close to Snape’s ear. Thanks to his height, he was able to whisper almost directly into it, “I know a few charms. We can come as many times as you like.”

The tension returned. Gary gave up massaging Snape’s shoulders. He rubbed a smoothing hand down Snape’s back instead. “Why don’t you take off your coat? It’s not cold in here.”

Snape gave up his jacket, allowing Gary to place it on a hanger on a hook on the back of the door. He stood in his long-sleeved white shirt and dark trousers and boots and felt incredibly exposed. He still faced away from Gary.

The soft voice returned to his ear. “What would you like?” Gary whispered. “I’ll do almost anything you ask.”

“I’m aware of that,” Snape replied. Of course he was – Lupin had paid handsomely so that Gary would not say no, so that Snape could enjoy some fantasy about being in control. Sod it all, he thought angrily. Gary is just a whore, a high-priced whore, and this is his job so let him start earning his pay!

Snape turned around.

Gary smiled pleasantly, clearly waiting for instruction.

Snape hesitated. He had no experience telling other men what to do in the bedroom, but plenty of it the other way around. He wondered if he should just tell Gary that. Maybe Gary would take over? Maybe that would be best for all concerned. But then, how idiotic would that appear? And what would he tell Remus, who was expecting this to be some sort of transformative experience? _’You mean, you’ve never taken the lead in sex? That’s a shame. I’ll have to do something about that.’_ How could he explain it, being unable to take control for once in his life? But… submitting to the whims of this much-younger man seemed equally undesirable. He was the customer. It was supposed to be he who directed the action. He thought back to his first ‘partner,’ the Potions Master, and said to Gary the first thing Master Heinrich had said to him that particular night he ended Snape’s virginity: “Strip.”

Gary’s eyes widened slightly, but he did as Snape commanded. He slid the sleeveless vest off his shoulders and let the garment drop to the floor behind him. His long, tanned fingers moved to the loosely tied trousers, plucked at the knot, and pushed the material over his hips. The trousers collapsed soundlessly at his bare feet; he kicked them away. He wore no underwear of any sort. Completely nude, he bowed his head and showed his palms. “As you wish,” he said softly.

Snape didn’t know what to do now. In his memory, Master Heinrich had been forced to berate Snape for his hesitancy in removing his clothing. He’d whipped Snape’s back and arse with a stout leather belt until he’d complied, then forced him to his knees on the floor, bent him over the bed, kicked his thighs apart and… done it. ‘Had sex,’ he forced himself to complete the thought. They had sex and it happened almost every night until Snape’s apprenticeship was complete, although by the end he had stopped wearing clothing at night and he’d grown to hate the stout belt.

Gary just stood there, his head bowed, his posture submissive. Snape’s hands went to his shirt buttons and undid them without thinking much about it. He pulled open his shirt and then unbuttoned his trousers. Leaving the placket gaping loosely, he said to Gary, “Suck it.”

Gary went gracefully to his knees and began to comply.

~~

“Mr. Lupin,” Lady Heather began once Gary and Snape had left the room. “Would you like a drink as you wait?”

“Please, Lady Heather. Scotch and soda,” he said. As she gave the order to the blonde woman, who hurried off to fetch the drink, Lupin went back and forth over his decision.

“Is there something bothering you, Mr. Lupin?” Lady Heather inquired. “I can see that you are troubled. I can assure you that Gary is one of my best employees. He will be extremely kind to Mr. Snape, as you requested.”

“I know,” Lupin said. “I trust your judgment. You came very highly recommended by Albus Dumbledore, after all.”

She smiled with genuine pleasure. “I do adore that man’s visits. So effortlessly charming, and so seemingly benign and grandfatherly, and yet with every visit he wears out a half dozen of my most talented employees!”

Lupin flushed. “I didn’t really need to know that,” he said, and Lady Heather gracefully apologized for her misstep. “But as to your original question, I am concerned about Severus. He’s been so… so closed-off since I mentioned this trip to him.”

“Perhaps he is merely concerned about the time away from the school?”

“No,” Lupin said. “Term starts in two weeks and we’ll only be gone for a few hours anyway. I think it’s this. Being here. Paying for sex.”

“He’s never indulged like this before?” she inquired politely.

“No, but that’s not it, I don’t think.”

“Mr. Snape appears to have no concept of his own attractiveness,” she offered. She gestured Lupin to a seat on the cream-colored sofa.

When she had sat as well, Lupin asked, “Do you find him attractive?”

She smiled serenely. “I find all men attractive. Even you.”

Lupin flushed with pleasure. “I appreciate that, but –“

“But your interests run in Gary’s direction, not mine.” She shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. You are still an attractive man. As is Mr. Snape. Granted, he’s not conventionally attractive, not like Gary, but to my mind, there is more to Mr. Snape’s appeal than conventionality.”

“But Mr. Snape doesn’t see it that way,” he said, falling into her habit of formal address. She lifted a shoulder in agreement. “And anyway, it’s up to Gary to convince him that he’s desirable, isn’t it.”

“That stipulation was made clear to Gary.”

“And he can pull it off?”

“If anyone can, it will be Gary,” she said. “If you are this concerned, perhaps you would care to watch the proceedings?”

“Watch? I don’t want to be interfere with anything,” he said, startled at the idea.

She smiled. “We have security for every room,” she said. “In the Muggle-only rooms, there are electronics that capture every visual, every sound. In the wizard-only rooms, we must use direct observers as magic interferes with electricity. There is a small anteroom with a permanent, spell-enhanced, observation window. It is represented on the other side as a dresser mirror.”

“Why do you have one? Do you spy on all your guests?” He had a sudden impulse to run upstairs and drag Snape away from there. If this got out, he could be ruined at Hogwarts!

“You misunderstand me,” Lady Heather said. “It is not spying for voyeurism’s sake, or even for blackmail purposes. The observation is to ensure our guests are not cheated, that our employees are not mistreated and that nothing illegal occurs in the rooms. The Muggle equipment leads to a room behind my office where we have two security guards on constant alert. If something goes wrong or gets out of hand, security is dispatched to the room immediately. If someone attempts an act they have not paid for, they are charged for it upon leaving. Likewise, this ensures we are not sued later. America is a rather litigious society.”

He smiled. “And the wizard-only rooms?”

“There is always a guard to witness. In case it comes up, his memories are put into a Pensieve.” She shrugged. “It’s rather equivalent to a videotape record of an event, after all.”

Lupin nodded. “I understand. I apologize for any insult.”

“Not at all. You are concerned for your friend. I’ll remind you of my earlier offer. Would you like to watch? You will be able to judge for yourself if your friend is being treated as you expect.”

He thought a moment, then nodded. “Thank you. I think I would.”

“Follow me, then.”

~~

The guard barely glanced up at Lupin when he walked in. Lady Heather spoke a few quiet words, the guard nodded and she left, shutting the door behind her. It was a dark, narrow room, barely long enough to stretch out in, lit only by light from the a single candle high in the corner, with a counter running along one wall and three folding chairs. The guard sat in one, his arms folded on the counter, his eyes fixed on the window looking into the room beyond. Lupin sat in another chair and did the same. He immediately felt himself freeze motionless.

The perfectly formed Gary was kneeling at Snape’s feet, his mouth opened wide as he stretched to take the other man’s glistening, straining cock into his throat again and again. He had one hand on Snape’s abdomen and one hand on his thigh for balance. Lupin watched, breathless, as Gary withdrew his mouth enough to kiss the cock’s tip and then begin laving the foreskin. As he did so, Snape’s head fell back and his mouth opened. Gary looked up, watching Snape’s reactions as he continued to pleasure him.

Lupin heard Snape’s soft groan and the sound went straight to his own cock. He shifted in his chair.

“You want some water or something?” the guard asked suddenly. He pushed over a glass pitcher of water and a paper cup.

“Thanks,” Lupin said. He poured himself a glass of water, his eyes riveted to the unfolding scene.

~~

Gary was certainly skilled at this, Snape thought. He had no trouble figuring out how to deal with his foreskin, despite not having one of his one. Snape pictured Gary’s cock in his mind once more with its proud helmet and thick, veined shaft. He hadn’t got a chance to look at Remus’s that night; things had happened so quickly. He hadn’t seen Remus’s naked body in full light since they were teenagers and he’d spied on him in the Quidditch locker room. He wondered if it had changed much.

I’m not with Remus, he told himself sternly. I had my one chance and I ruined it. This is Gary.

He opened his eyes and looked down at the handsome young man who was paying his cock the supreme compliment. Gary was looking back up at him. Their eyes met and, for one long, intensely personal moment, Snape could believe that this was his lover, that he was sharing this moment with him out of mutual desire and want, instead of this merely being the result of a drunken conversation and a business transaction.

His lover. His alone. He put his hand out and gently feathered his fingers through Gary’s short hair. He slid his palm around to cup Gary’s cheek, feeling the skin bulge out from the pressure of his cock as Gary moved his mouth across and over the tip. They were sharing this moment. It was theirs alone and it would be repeated and built upon throughout the years to come and it was a shoddy, predictable fantasy and Snape had better learn to separate such fantasies from reality fast or he’d prove to everyone that he was the hideously romantic fool he’d long suspected himself to be.

He stepped back, withdrawing his cock from Gary’s mouth. Gary looked up at him in confusion, but he covered it well. He sat back on his knees and waited.

Snape, still mostly clothed, took another step back and sat down abruptly on the bed. Panting, he could only stare at the carpet.

After a long pause, Gary spoke up. “Did I do something wrong?”

Snape shook his head. “No. No, you were fine.”

“Shall I continue?”

“No.”

Another pause, then, “What would you like me to do for you? Do you want to watch me? Or would you like something else?”

“Watch you?” What exactly did that mean? It could mean so many things, after all.

Gary smiled a bit and took himself in hand. He was still somewhat hard, but touching himself made him even harder. He began to stroke his cock, slowly, demonstratively. “ _Watch me_ ,” he said again, his meaning now clear.

Snape shook his head. “No,” he said. That would be intolerable. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one to cause whatever orgasm Gary would be capable of having with him in the same room?

“Why don’t you get undressed?” Gary suggested, still kneeling on the carpet.

Snape nodded. That seemed to be the thing to do next. He stood and pulled off his shirt. Gary took it from him and, standing, arranged it on the hangers behind the door. Snape bent down and unbuckled his boots, sliding them off. Gary took them and put them neatly by the dresser, out of the way. He did the same with Snape’s belt, rolling it up and leaving it on top of the dresser, and then waited for Snape’s trousers.

Feeling decidedly uncomfortable revealing his pale, skinny, inadequate body to this well-proportioned demigod, he nevertheless tugged his slacks off his thin legs and handed them to Gary as well. His socks soon followed.

~~

Now they were both nude. Lupin hadn’t taken the opportunity to closely observe Snape the only time he’d ever seen him completely naked, that incident at the end of Fifth Year, of course. But back then, he hadn’t really been in a position to notice Snape’s body, being too preoccupied with pretending it wasn’t happening at all. And that night in Grimmauld Place, he hadn’t thought to light the room more than was absolutely necessary, or take the time to examine the elegant lines of Snape au naturel.

Now, he could. And now, he regretted not taking the time earlier to delight in the planes and angles of Snape’s body. He was not well-muscled, like Gary, but his body had a refinement and grace all of its own. Slender, yes. And pale, yes. But more perfectly proportioned than anyone had a right to expect, especially given the concealing cut of Snape’s clothes.

He swallowed another glassful of water, hoping the guard next to him wasn’t paying him much attention as he discreetly (he hoped) adjusted his insistent arousal.

~~

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Gary said. He smiled as he glanced down Snape’s body. “You have a great body,” he said. “You shouldn’t hide it.”

Snape folded his arms in front of him. “I don’t believe you were paid quite enough for lies of that nature.”

Clearly startled, Gary blinked. “I’m not lying. Why don’t you lay down on the bed? I could give you a massage, if you like.”

That seemed innocuous enough of a request, so Snape nodded and lay down on his stomach, facing away from Gary and the mirror.

~~

Lupin watched as Gary straddled Snape’s thighs, opened a bottle of oil and squirted a line of it along Snape’s spine. It must have been warm, because Snape barely reacted to it.

Gary began kneading the muscles in Snape’s back from his shoulders to his buttocks. Lupin could see Gary’s erection, which hadn’t faded much at all, resting comfortably on the swell of one ivory arse-cheek.

~~

After several minutes, Snape signaled an end to Gary’s massage. The prostitute had been slowly directing his hands toward his buttocks, clearly meaning to massage them and, perhaps, prepare him for sexual congress. Snape wasn’t sure what he wanted in that regard, so he stopped the proceedings.

“Why don’t you turn over, then?” Gary suggested softly, moving off Snape’s legs to allow the man room to maneuver. 

“Very well,” Snape sighed. He rolled over, but kept his face averted. No one needed to see that, as he’d been made well aware. He fought the impulse to cover his groin, his sparsely-haired, sunken chest, his anemic nipples, and kept his hands to his sides. He steeled himself for Gary’s reaction. It would either be subtly derogatory or a request for Snape to roll back over.

Gary resettled himself across Snape’s thighs. His cock and Snape’s lay quite close together, nestled as they were on Snape’s rather large scrotum. Gary drew a finger down the middle of Snape’s chest to his navel. He braced himself on one hand as he leaned forward, his face close to Snape’s. Still bracing himself, he brushed several strands of Snape’s hair off his face, then dipped in close to press his lips to Snape’s cheek.

It was a surprisingly tender kiss. Snape swallowed hard, uncertain why he should feel so suddenly at-sea. Certainly, he’d been kissed before.

Gary’s body was quite warm, hovering a scant inch above his own. He could feel Gary’s nipples brush against his chest as Gary’s mouth moved down a bit, to his jaw. He kissed him again, then gently licked at the close-shaved skin. He felt Gary smile, then lick him again. He heard his own breath catch.

Gary pressed his hips to Snape’s, rubbing their cocks together. Snape was startled to realize that, at some point, he had gotten hard again. Gary moved his lips to Snape’s ear. “How do you want me?” he breathed.

Snape had been lifting his hands to touch Gary’s waist when the words froze his movement. How did he want him? He hadn’t thought that far in advance. “Like this is fine,” he said, not knowing how else to answer. Gary was being gentle with him, tender, and Snape found he liked that. It was a nice change of pace from being manhandled into position, however exciting he found being manhandled sometimes.

Gary nodded, then continued dropping kisses on Snape’s throat, his collarbone, his chest, and then his nipples. Snape gasped as Gary’s warm mouth closed on one small nub. His hands finally found Gary’s waist and lightly held on. He didn’t want to offend Gary by gripping him too tightly, or imply he wanted something different than whatever it was Gary wanted to do with him. He figured Gary was taking the most direct route to getting himself off and he was grateful the other man was choosing such a pleasurable way to do it.

After several moments of sucking at Snape’s nipples, Gary moved even lower. He dipped his tongue in Snape’s navel, then licked a trail downward to the root of Snape’s cock. He fellated him again with long strokes of his tongue before sitting upright once more. Confused, Snape opened his eyes to watch.

~~

Lupin poured himself another glass of water as he watched Gary thoroughly oil Snape’s cock. Snape’s chest was heaving with each breath; the man was clearly enraptured by the sensations Gary had managed to evoke in him. Lupin couldn’t remember ever being witness to a more tender seduction than the one Gary had orchestrated with Snape.

“He’s worth every penny, isn’t he,” Lupin murmured.

“Who, Gary? He’s one of the best I’ve seen,” the guard replied, startling Lupin.

“I-I didn’t think you’d speak,” he said.

The guard shrugged. “I’m not really supposed to. Interferes with the Pensieves after, you understand, but that’s mostly when it comes to the customers themselves. I can’t comment on them – and I won’t. But the employees? Yeah. Gary’s good.”

“Have you, er…”

“With Gary? No,” the guard replied with a smirk. “My wife might have something to say about it.” He laughed. “Hell. She’d probably want to watch.”

Lupin forced a grin in return, not willing to question the man any further about his sexual history. He focused on Gary, who was now crawling up Snape’s body.

~~

Snape kept his eyes on Gary, who kept his eyes on him. His face, his beautifully sculpted face, was inches above his and it seemed to Snape that the world had closed to just this bed in this room. My lover, he thought to himself once more. This is my lover.

He brought his hands up to touch Gary’s waist once more. The man’s skin was so soft and smooth, belying the presence of the hard muscles. Gary bent forward and brushed his lips across Snape’s eyelids before reaching between their bodies and grasping Snape’s cock. Maneuvering expertly, Gary was able to position the cock at his opening without ever breaking eye contact.

“Wait! Shouldn’t you-?”

Gary shook his head. “That’s not necessary, but thanks for the concern.” He smiled and pressed down, his buttocks parting easily around Snape’s oiled cock.

Snape gasped, feeling the tight heat surround his body. He pushed up at Gary, sheathing himself firmly inside the younger man. His eyes closed and he felt Gary sit upright, balancing on Snape’s narrow hips. There was a brief moment, then Gary began to rise up and sit back down, fucking himself on Snape’s cock.

Snape pushed himself back against the pillows and groaned. His lover…his.

~~

Lupin couldn’t turn away had he wanted to, frozen as he was by some unnamed and unrecognized emotion that was a small part lust and a larger part something darker, more primal.

And then he knew it and named it.

Jealousy. Possessiveness. Need. Want. Desire… all thwarted by a hideous, horrible, disastrous mistake.

It should not have happened this way. It should not be Gary. It should not be this place. It should not _be!_

Gary was riding Snape’s cock, his muscled body catching the light with every undulating twist. From his angle, Lupin could even see Snape’s cock as it disappeared between Gary’s tight buttocks, in and out, in and out. The two were acting in tandem; Snape’s hips rising to meet Gary’s spread thighs, their chests arching as they gasped simultaneously. Gary’s hands hung loosely at his sides; Snape’s lay lightly on Gary’s thighs.

Then Gary took Snape’s hand and brought it to his bobbing cock. “You can touch me, you know,” he said hoarsely, “if you want to.”

Snape’s eyes flew open.

~~

He looked at his hand, his stained, yellowish fingers, against Gary’s perfectly bronzed skin. He watched his fingers trailing gently across one line of Gary’s abdominal muscles, fascinated with the way the light played on his skin, absorbed in the act of touching this exquisitely formed human being.

I can touch this man, Snape thought wonderingly, and no one can stop me. He wants me to, in fact. My lover, mine. He wants me to touch him. He likes me touching him. He enjoys this.

Snape chanced a glance up to Gary’s face. He’s so beautiful, Snape thought, so perfect, and he’s all mine. For this moment, he’s mine and I can touch him, his cock even, if I wanted to. I think I want to. But how?

Snape’s other hand moved up to stroke the tip of Gary’s cock. He watched as Gary’s eyes slammed shut, his mouth opening enough to gasp, “Oh, yes! Just like that. It’s perfect. So good.”

Incredible, Snape thought, that this man would enjoy being touched the way Snape touched himself when he was the one being penetrated. Enraptured with the knowledge, he reached up one hand toward Gary’s face. He wanted to touch that beautiful face, to feel the smile and the warmth in his expression, maybe even to kiss him, mouth to mouth?

He shuddered, imagining such a thing. He’d been intimate with men before, but he’d never actually kissed any of them – or been kissed – on the mouth. The Potions Master had not been interested in such tender expressions and the other man, the one in Hogsmeade, had said from the start that kissing Snape would be disloyal to the man’s longtime lover and companion. Lupin hadn’t even tried it. Snape had relied upon hearsay and books to tell him what mouth-kissing was like, but he wanted to know what it was for himself. He needed to know.

Gary bent down, leaning over Snape once more. Snape continued to caress Gary’s face, marveling in the texture of the man’s eyebrows and the softness of his lips and the straight line of his nose. Then Gary reached up and held Snape’s hand in his. He smiled down at Snape, like that demigod in whose image he’d been created, and Snape saw his yellowed fingers contrasted with Gary’s slender, tanned ones, and he saw the reflection of his own countenance in Gary’s dark eyes, his own shallow cheeks, thin lips, preposterous nose, and even his abnormally huge eyes and it hit him, hard, in the center of his chest and like a klaxon in his brain.

_You have no right to touch this man! He does not belong to you and the idea that he ever could is so outlandish as to be unthinkable and in a perfect society would be considered illegal and punishable with severe torment. Your every touch is an insult to him. He is Beautiful and he deserves to be adored by only the most worthy. You have never been among the Worthy. You are a fool._

“Get off me,” he growled, pushing hard at Gary’s midsection. “Just stop. Please stop.”

~~

“Hello,” the guard said slowly. “What’s this about?”

Lupin felt a surge of concerned panic at Snape’s unexpected words. He refused to note the schadenfreude surging through him at their _coitus interruptus_. “I… I don’t know. Is he hurt?”

They both leaned closer to the mirror, curious to see what would transpire.

~~

“What’s wrong?” Gary said, pulling himself off Snape’s cock with an undisguised wince. He fell to one side as Snape tugged his body free. Snape sat up, his legs over the side of the bed, facing away from Gary, toward the mirror. He covered his face with one hand and bent slightly forward, his other hand on his stomach as if in great pain.

Gary hesitated, then slowly moved toward Snape once more. He glanced at the mirror, then focused on Snape’s smooth back. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please,” he said quietly. After a long pause, he tried again. “Was I doing something you didn’t like? Just tell me. I’m good at taking direction. I swear.”

“It’s not you,” Snape said. “It’s me. This is no good. This whole thing is… no good.” He sighed, then held his hand up as if keeping Gary at bay. “Don’t worry. Lady Heather will never hear a wrong word against you from me. As far as she’ll be told, you were an excellent lov… partner. Everything I could hope for. You did everything I asked. You were enthusiastic and receptive and I have no complaints. I’ll even throw in an extra hundred just for you, and if you promise not to say anything to Remus, I’ll be grateful.”

“’Remus’?”

“Lupin. My… friend.”

Gary sighed. “I don’t… I don’t think that’s a good decision. I only mean,” he added hastily, “that I would never take money for something I didn’t actually do. And I won’t lie to Lady Heather. She’s been good to me and I owe her more than my honesty. If you tell me what you want, help me out even a little, there are all sorts of things we can do together.”

“No – no, there aren’t. It would be wrong, can’t you see that? Hideously wrong.”

Nonplussed, Gary said, “If this is about morality, then-“

Snape laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “I assure you, I would be the last to take issue with someone else’s morality.”

“Then…?”

Snape sighed. “This has more to do with… aesthetics.”

~~

“Oh, gods,” Lupin breathed. He suddenly understood what Snape had to mean. He wanted somehow to tell Gary what to say, how to handle this sudden development or better, to burst in there himself and throw Gary out and – and... Instead, he glared at the guard and said fiercely, “I hope like hell your boy in there knows what he’s doing.”

The guard just glanced back at him, then refocused his attention on the room.

~~

“Aesthetics? What do you mean?”

The boy was so obviously faking his ignorance. Snape could almost believe he didn’t realize. “I mean, Gary,” he said, speaking as if he were addressing Neville Longbottom at his most doltish, “that you are one sort of man and I am another and we should not ever… mix.”

“But we’re both gay men,” Gary said, moving a bit closer to Snape. “And we both want to, so..?”

“On the contrary,” Snape replied immediately. “I may want to, but you are being well paid for your attentions and I just… I simply cannot continue… insulting you this way.”

“It’s not an insult to me,” Gary said, clearly puzzled. “It’s an honest living.”

“That is not what I mean!” Snape growled, just as clearly exasperated. “I mean the simple mechanics of it. You are a beautiful, stunning young man. You possess a body that most men can only dream of, but there are men who are not fit to even dream of one. I am one of those men. I am not… not worthy of… of the gift of one of your _smiles_ , and-and… I am ashamed enough that I desperately wanted to believe that it could be possible but it can’t ever be because it’s against Nature to be. Can’t you see that?”

“I don’t… I’m not following you.”

Snape dropped his hand from his face, but he still looked away from Gary.

~~

“Oh, my gods,” Lupin murmured, alarmed and frightened. “He’s crying? I would never have believed it…”

But it was true. A thin trail of wet glistened a short way from the corner of Snape’s left eye. The skin of his face had gone a bit blotchy and his mouth was down-turned in a decided frown.

“You are a good-looking man, agreed?” Snape was saying.

“Sure, I guess,” Gary said, still frowning.

“He ‘guesses,’” Snape said quietly. Then, with more force, he grit out, “And I am an ugly man. A very ugly man indeed. You must agree.”

“No, Severus,” Lupin said suddenly. He felt sympathetic, angry tears well up in his own eyes. “You’re not ugly at all. Who told you that was a liar!”

Gary’s simultaneous response was just as empathic. “But I don’t agree.”

~~

Snape whirled to face Gary. He frowned fiercely, saying in as condescending manner as he could muster, “You aren’t getting paid enough to lie to me.”

“Now that, I will agree to.” Gary moved the rest of the way to sit close to Snape. He rested one hand on the middle of Snape’s back in a soothing gesture. “I was told not to lie in this room so I’m not. You are not an ugly man.”

“Then you are the very first person on this entire planet who thinks so.”

“Surely, someone has said they like your looks. Your friend, Mr. Lupin? Your mother, even?”

“Not hardly,” Snape said, brushing a knuckle under each eye. He sniffed a bit. “Remus Lupin shagged me because he was bored, felt guilty and mortified for his low standards, and decided to become my ‘friend’ as recompense. Turns out, men who look like you are much more his speed. As for my mother, she was the first to set me straight. ‘It’s a good thing you’re smart, Severus,’ she used to say to me, ‘because you’ll never make it in life with that ugly face.’ Look at me.” Snape faced the mirror. “I have a huge nose, crooked teeth. My eyes are too big and my face is too long and my hair is too… lanky. Not to mention my body.”

“What’s wrong with your body?” Gary said. “There’s not a mark on it, as far as I can tell.”

Snape whispered a spell and the glamour hiding his Dark Mark faded. “I have this,” he said, holding up his left arm.

“A tattoo,” Gary said. “So?”

“It’s what it represents.”

“I don’t really follow that kind of cultural self-expression stuff,” he said. “It doesn’t matter to me, anyway. What a person thinks about things, or feels about other people, well, it doesn’t mean anything when they get in here. In here, it’s just pleasure and fun and what you want.”

“Fine. I am not… developed. Not like you are, at any rate.”

Gary quirked a half-smile. “I spend a great deal of time at the gym. I work hard on this body, because it’s my stock in trade.”

Snape nodded. “I realize that. I would, I suppose, ‘work out’, if I thought it would do any good. But I can’t… I don’t have occasion to do so. I teach most of the year. Potions. It’s rather time-intensive. And I’m responsible, at any given time, for the welfare of at least seventy students for the school year. Not to mention certain extra-curricular activities of a more political nature which you may not question me about.”

“I’ve already said I don’t pay attention to politics,” Gary told him. “Your stock in trade is your mind, your intelligence. That’s what you spend your time on. There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, I find that to be extremely attractive.”

“Do you really,” Snape said dryly.

“I do. You remind me of my boyfriend.”

~~

“Oh, no,” the guard said, reaching for a wand.

“What’s wrong?” Lupin asked, still riveted to the unfolding drama, all his strength focused on keeping himself still in the chair. 

“He’s getting personal. He’s not supposed to get personal with the clients.”

~~

“Do be serious.”

“I am. He’s a genius inventor,” Gary went on. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. He was always taking things apart, putting them back together, adding charms or enchantments so they’d work better or more efficiently. When we were in high school, he was small and skinny. He wears glasses and had braces then. He was a bit of an odd looking guy, but he was still my best friend. When I realized I was gay, I told him first about it. He told me he was gay, too and that made us better friends. For a while, we talked about the other boys in class, about movie stars, celebrities. You know, who we thought was hot, whatever. Then one day I looked at him and realized, this was about a year or so ago, I realized that he had grown tall and he’d filled out a bit. He was still pale and skinny and kind of geeky looking, but he’d lost the braces and he’d gotten the vision-corrective charm and, well…” He shrugged. “I kissed him. We’ve been together ever since. That’s more than two years now.”

“How romantic,” Snape said dryly. “And he doesn’t mind your current profession?”

“Nope,” he replied. “As long as it pays the bills, and as long as I keep what I do in bed with him separate from what I do in bed with a client here, it’s fine. And I have. I want to keep him in my life. He’s that important to me. Besides, I won’t be doing this forever. I won’t be able to. You’re only young once.”

“If ever.”

There was a long pause. Gary had opened his mouth to speak when Snape beat him to it with a question. “Do you kiss him?”

Gary gaped a moment, obviously thrown by the change in subject. “Of course, I do.”

Snape heaved a sigh. His next question was nearly inaudible. “Would you kiss me?”

~~

Lupin felt his heart sink through his chest and something dangerous rise in its place. He covered his mouth as his view of the room became blurry.

“Oh, damn,” the guard said. “And here I thought they were making progress.”

~~

“I’m sorry,” Gary said. “But no. I won’t.”

“Please?” Snape pressed on. “I’ll pay extra. Whatever you like. I have a hundred with me and I can get more. I know I’m not your boyfriend and you don’t have to like it, but you get paid to pretend, don’t you? Couldn’t you pretend with me?” He hated – despised – the pathetic whine in his voice, the pitiful beggar he’d been reduced to, but he had to know, just once, what it felt like to be kissed. If he could have that one moment, he could live on it the rest of his life. He could take that memory and add it to the ones he treasured of Remus and then he’d _know_ , he could be complete. Happy.

Gary caressed Snape’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, but it’s an agreement I made with James, my boyfriend. I only kiss him.”

Snape snorted in bitter amusement. “Your boyfriend’s name is ‘James’?” At Gary’s nod, he went on. “I should have figured as much. ‘James’ was the name of one of my chief tormentors at school. He was also one of Remus’s best friends. They hated me.”

Gary looked genuinely pained. “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have said his name at all if I’d known.”

“It’s not your fault, nor his.”

“Still…” He thought a moment, glanced up at the mirror, then asked, “If Remus was one of your enemies, why is he giving you all this?”

Snape sighed. “We barely spoke much in school. We had a class together. That was about it. After school, we never saw each other. Then two years ago, he got a temporary position at the school where I teach. We were civil to each other, but nothing more than that. I… got him fired. It’s best not to go into the reasons why. Then these… political matters to which I referred earlier necessitated our partnership of sorts. A week or so ago, he invited me up to his room. I went –“

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t exactly get that many offers, so I’ve never been in a position to turn anyone down. It had been… years since my last intimate encounter. Besides, I had always wondered what it would be like with him. He’s fascinated me most of my life, despite not always being dominant in my thoughts.”

“And how was it?”

Snape shifted on the mattress. “It was brilliant, for all that it was short-lived. He… took control of the situation. He had me on my knees on the bed before I really knew what was going on, but then he was inside me and I didn’t care. When it was over, I got up, got dressed and got out.”

Gary shifted as well, moving to sit side-by-side to Snape, mirroring his posture. “Did he say anything to you? Try to stop you or talk to you?”

“He wanted me to know that it was good for him,” Snape said, trying to remember Remus’s exact words. “And asked if I was okay with what had happened.”

“And were you?”

“I told him it was fine.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“It wasn’t… what I would have wanted,” Snape confessed.

~~

Chagrined, humiliated, certain more than ever he had never made a worse mistake in his life than bring Severus Snape to this place, Lupin just sank lower in his chair. He refused to look at the guard who had long since put his wand back out of sight.

~~

“What did you want?”

“I’ve never been… never had… I’ve never _made love_ to anyone. My first time was rather rushed and… brutal. We had intercourse when he wanted it and how he wanted it, which was usually with my face in the pillow. The second partner I had was older than I was and lived in a nearby village. He would send for me when his lover was out of town and I would come to the back door of his house and he would lead me into his guest room and we would have intercourse one way or another, but always with me facing away from him. He’d often call out his partner’s name when he was inside me.”

Gary swallowed hard. “And after that?”

“After that, there was Remus.”

Gary thought a moment, then touched Snape gently with his elbow. “Was this the first time you ever topped someone?”

Snape nodded.

“And you’ve never been kissed?”

Snape shook his head.

“All right,” Gary said finally. He turned slightly, then gently guided Snape’s face toward him. “Close your eyes,” he said softly, moving closer, “and keep your lips loose. It’ll be better that way.”

“But what about James?”

“He’ll understand,” Gary whispered. “Don’t worry about it.”

~~

And Remus Lupin watched as Severus Snape received his first-ever mouth-to-mouth kiss and he wanted to die. It was always a beautiful thing, he thought, watching two men kiss so tenderly, reverently, and then passionately. But damn it, he thought, it should have been me. It would have been me – had Snape not turned his face away that night. Why did he? 

Within moments, the two were flat on the bed once more, but this time, Gary was underneath. He guided Snape to rest between his parted thighs, then with whispered words, encouraged him to full penetration. The two men, ivory and bronze, moved together in synchronous undulation, their necks straining to keep their mouths in contact until they broke off that tactic in order to breathe in short gasps. In moments that felt like the most painful eternity, Remus Lupin watched as Snape’s arse clenched and thrust and pounded into Gary’s perfect buttocks over and over again, and then as Gary’s beautiful, cut cock spasmed and shot creamy-white across his perfect chest, and then as Snape gasped and shook and came himself.

The two men shuddered a few last orgasmic ripples and then Snape fell to one side. Gary pulled Snape close to him and they rested, Gary stroking Snape’s arm, Snape’s eyes closed dreaming of who-knew-what.

The image burned into his brain. He wordlessly vowed now that he knew what he now knew about Severus, there was never going to be anyone coming between them ever again, nor would Severus, his once-and-future lover, ever feel a need for it. Remus would see to it personally.

~~

Ten minutes or so before their time was up, Lady Heather retrieved Remus Lupin from the guard’s room.

“Did everything go as you hoped, Mr. Lupin?” she asked.

He stood and pushed in his chair. Inside the room, the two men were nuzzling each other contentedly. “Things went just fine,” he told her, his shoulders squared and his jaw tight. “I couldn’t be happier about it. You were right. Gary is very good. His boyfriend is a lucky man.”

Lady Heather frowned. “Gary doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lady Heather is, of course, well familiar to long-time viewers of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. She's used here without permission, which would surely offend her sensibilities.


	19. The Shop Around the Corner

By his 19th birthday, Remus Lupin had found a new career. It wasn't something a person could take a NEWT in, or something a person would brag about at friendly gatherings, or even something a person applied for, or got a regular paypacket for. It was, instead, a sort of…

'I'm in consulting,' he'd say, which was near enough to the truth. Most of his friends had little-to-no knowledge of the vagaries of Muggle life and if he told them he was a 'consultant,' then that's what he was. It didn't really matter. They knew he had a position as a clerk in the book shop next to the Leaky Cauldron on the Muggle side and that required him to be at certain places at certain times doing certain things for a certain rate of payment. The 'consulting' thing seemed to happen only at night and mostly on the weekends. Sometimes, for the entire weekend, and those were the best because then Remus would have plenty of money for his rent and food bill, and wouldn't have to beg or borrow from his friends. Not that they would begrudge him a knut, but that it shamed Remus to ask.

Remus never told his friends about the men in his life; he only said he dated frequently. He was, he explained, rather popular among Muggles. 'They like my eyes and my 'other-worldly' presence,' he'd say, which was near enough to the truth. Mostly, the men in his life liked his smooth buttocks and tight arsehole, his deep throat and his ready acceptance of whatever they happened to want to toss his way. And if he spent most of his evenings bent over a bed or a barstool or a public toilet while one man or another shoved his cock or some other phallic object into his quivering arsehole just to see if it would fit or how much he could take at one time, he still ended up several hundred pounds richer and after all, that was what really mattered: the money.

It couldn't buy happiness, but that was okay. Happiness was dead and buried in a Muggle graveyard in York. By his 19th birthday, Remus Lupin had found a new career: lucrative denial.


	20. On the Edge of Seventeen

“Twenty pounds says he can’t do it!”

“Thirty says he can!”

“Twenty-five says he gets him into the room, but the boy backs out.”

“Gentlemen, please! As if anyone would back out on me once I get him alone. He’ll be too busy backing _into_ me, if you take my meaning. And I think you do.” Remus Lupin grinned round the table at his friends, toasting them with his pint glass. “Are we ready?”

There was a flurry of movement as the other four men dropped bills in the center of the table, Vlad taking control of the betting pool. “When you’re ready, John,” he said with a sly wink.

The five friends met up at the gay-friendly Cock and Bull, two blocks from the homophobic Cock and Badger, every Friday night after work. They were part of the regular crowd, well-known to the bartenders and bouncers. Some nights, they’d just drink and talk; others, they’d play bar tricks on the unsuspecting or, like tonight, Dare.

Holiday weekends always brought out a larger crowd, which greatly increased the odds of finding someone or something for each man to be dared to do. This evening was no different. Almost from the moment one particular young man strolled past the bouncer, the five men knew he’d be a perfect target. Wide-eyed, innocent, but desperately trying in his torn jeans and faded Def Leppard t-shirt to appear worldly-wise, the boy had ‘target’ written all over him.

Remus watched the boy at the bar for another moment while Vlad verified the money. Several times, the boy had tried to make eye contact with one of the other males in the bar, but each time he’d lost his nerve. Now he kept eyeing the door. Figuring his prey was about to bolt, Remus nodded at Vlad, polished off his glass, and pushed back his chair.

“There he goes,” laughed Murphy Smith as Remus passed him. “God’s gift to the desperate queer.” Remus smirked at the familiar jibe and focused on the boy.

There was plenty of room at the bar, but Remus chose to stand close to the boy. He smiled at him, pleased to discover the slender lad had green eyes to complement his shaggy blond hair, then turned to the bartender. “I’ll have another round at the table,” he said, “and buy this nice young man a drink as well.”

Startled, the boy stared at Remus. “Um, thanks, but…” He held up his mostly-empty glass.

“What?” Remus asked. “You’re going to refuse me? I could sweeten the offer… if you like.” He grinned, displaying his teeth, and waited. They never refused him a second time.

Right on cue, the boy flushed and stammered. “Uh-uhm, sure. All right. I suppose.”

“That’s more like it,” Remus said. The bartender set a pint of stout in front of the boy and Remus’s usual Guinness in front of him, a warning look in his eye. Remus ignored it. “Here’s to new friends,” he said, lifting his glass in a toast.

The boy tipped his glass toward Remus’s, then downed the last of his original drink. He shifted a bit, glanced up at the mirror behind the bar, then said abruptly, “I’m gay.”

Remus choked a bit, amused and startled by the boy’s sudden admission. His amusement increased as the boy seemed to realize what he had said, flushed a steady tomato, cleared his throat and tried again, “I mean, I’m Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” Remus said, extending a hand. “I’m John.”

They shook hands. Immediately, Remus could tell the boy was nervous, excited, aroused and, more than likely, untried. He leaned closer to the boy, ostensibly to whisper, but in actuality to get as good a whiff of his pheromones as possible. This close to the full moon, he could often feel his lupine instincts coming strongly to the fore and he enjoyed taking advantage of them. Yes, there was definite arousal, and definite fear.

“Relax,” Remus said softly. Steve shivered slightly. “I’m not going to bite you… unless you beg me to.”

The boy flushed again, covering his reaction by drinking half of his second glass.

“Go easy there,” Remus said, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You all right?”

The boy nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually like this.” A dull, red flush crept up the back of Steve’s neck.

“First time here?”

“Yeah. I, uh, heard it was a good place to, uh…”

Remus leaned in close again. “It is. At least, I think it is.” His lips were close enough to Steve’s ear to do more than whisper. He caught hold of the boy’s earlobe with his teeth and tugged it gently. Steve shuddered harder, his hips twisting.

“Don’t… don’t do that. Someone will see.”

Remus pulled back a bit. “You embarrassed to be seen with me?”

“No! It’s not that, I-“

“Or maybe, you’d prefer some privacy?”

The boy blinked, then nodded. “Sure. Yeah. Um. Where would you like to go?”

“There’s a back room the owner leaves open for… just such occasions. Interested?”

He was. Remus couldn’t help but smile triumphantly. All he had to do now was get the boy in the back room and make sure he didn’t leave first. Simple enough. He caught Vlad’s eye as he ushered Steve through the door marked ‘PRIVATE.’ Vlad responded by raising the wad of notes.

~~

It wasn’t more than a storeroom with a couple stacks of crates full of scotch or whiskey, some imported vodka and a disorganized desk in the corner. A mis-tuned radio hummed static interference. The only light came from a single bulb hanging from a wire in the center of the room.

Steve turned nervously beneath the light bulb, reflexively folding and unfolding his arms. Remus shut the door and turned the lock. He smiled at the younger man and loosened a few buttons on his shirt.

“How… how’d you get all those scars?”

Remus stopped short at the sudden question. “That’s rather personal, don’t you think?” he asked, aiming for a tone which would make Steve blame himself for natural curiosity.

“Sorry,” Steve said, flushing. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Make it up to me,” Remus immediately offered.

“Er, I’ve never really done anything –“

“It’s easy,” Remus said with a sigh. Sometimes virgins were fun to deflower. Sometimes they were just boringly repetitive. “Get down on your knees and open your mouth. Suck on anything that makes it past your lips.”

Steve had no ready reply to that, but he still hesitated before sinking slowly to his knees. He shifted a few times, trying to get comfortable on the cement floor. Remus waited until the boy looked up before unzipping his pants. He stroked himself a few times until he got completely hard, then held out his cock, pointing it toward Steve’s face.

“Well?”

Steve opened his mouth. Remus inserted his cock. Steve began to suck.

For a first-timer, it wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t terrible. Remus found himself having to remind Steve to breath through his nose, but at least he didn’t have to inform him of the niceties of proper dental care. He had to move his own cock in and out of Steve’s mouth, and once or twice it slipped out completely and bumped up against the boy’s nose or along his cheek, but when he pushed in far enough to feel the tip of his cock sliding against the soft palate, the boy choked and coughed, which set him farther back on his road to orgasm than he really had time for. Remus ended up holding Steve’s head still and forcefully fucking his mouth until he felt his balls slapping up against the boy’s clean-shaven chin and he could come, not with a sigh of completion but with a groan of _finally!_

He pulled out, snagged a tissue from the box on the desk and dried himself off. Quickly tucking himself back into place, he gave Steve a considering look. He pulled out a handful of pounds from his pocket and held them out in front of the boy.

“What’s this for?” he murmured.

“For you. Buy yourself another round on me. Do whatever the hell you like with it. Just take it.” Remus kept holding out the money, but Steve just dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and stood up.

“No thanks,” he said.

“Suit yourself,” Remus replied. He put the cash on the desk. “But it’s meant for you. Leave it if you like. The manager’ll just take it.”

Steve just stood there, saying nothing. Remus wasn’t sure what more he was waiting for, so he shrugged and unlocked the door.

Back at the table, he was almost too busy counting his winnings to notice Steve’s swift exit, but something made him look up as the other man made it to the bar’s entrance, turned and glanced back at him. There was an expression on his face strangely, hauntingly, familiar to Remus, but he could not place it until hours later, in his bed, exhausted and drunk. For some strange reason, the skinny blond kid with the green eyes reminded him of Severus Snape. He rolled to the edge of his bed, summoned the small rubbish bin, and threw up.

It took him a long time to get rid of the smell.


	21. Clean and Sober

Remus had almost fallen unconscious by the time the twenty-first man had pulled out. Barely aware of the man’s approving pat on his sore buttocks, Remus just lay there, head on the pillow, dead to the world.

Somewhere beyond his ken, Vlad ushered the last few men out the door, murmuring quietly about something or other. The door shut, leaving him in relative darkness and solitude.

“Is Sir all right?” A soft voice and a softer hand on his bare shoulder caused him to open one eye in confusion.

“Spice?” he breathed.

She grinned, flushing a bit. She’d only just earned her name a few weeks ago; she was still quite proud of her accomplishment. “This girl is here to help Sir recover, but not until Sir is prepared to move.”

Remus frowned a bit. He hated the way Vlad made Spice speak of herself in the third person. It reminded him too well of house elves. Sirius had a house elf. Wretched creature. Wait – that was his name: Kreacher. Someone had a sense of humor in the Black family. Black humor. That was funny, too.

“This girl will go get some water and clean cloths,” she said.

The mattress dipped slightly while she moved away. Remus closed his eyes. He could still feel a cock inside him, the pressure spearing him open, the friction, and the heat. It felt good. He moved a little on the cushion; his cock was sore, but that felt kind of good, too.

Spice came back in. She placed a bowl of warm water on the bedside table and dipped a white flannel into it. Taking great care, she draped the square across his buttocks. Remus jerked a bit with the sudden contact, then sighed as some of the burning was drained away.

“That’s it, Sir,” she said. “This will help. This girl is going to clean Sir now. Shall this girl use the cloth, or would Sir like this girl to lick it off herself?”

Vaguely disgusted, he could only stammer, “Huh? You want to… _lick_ it off?”

“It is to be Sir’s preference.”

“Wipe.”

“Very good, Sir.”

Several minutes passed while Spice silently and gently washed Remus clean of spunk. She tenderly patted his gaping arsehole. “Sir, this may sting a bit,” she said. “There is some blood.”

“I’ll live,” he replied.

“Master ordered a bath to be made ready, which Sir may enjoy once Sir has been cleaned internally. Are you ready?”

Oh, right, Remus thought with a mental groan. _That._ Vlad had strongly suggested Remus be cleansed and Remus could think of no explanation Vlad would or could accept as to why Muggle methods were not necessary.

“Best get it over with,” he muttered.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, then his hands and knees. Spice was right beside him, assisting him in finding his balance. When he got onto his feet, however, he realized he was quite capable of standing by himself. Walking, however, was a different story.

“I must look ridiculous,” he told her as they stepped into the luxe bathroom. The triple-sized blue-veined marble tub was full of steaming, soapy water. It beckoned to him.

But Spice was saying, “No more than this girl ever has after one of Master’s longer sessions.”

He decided he did not really need to know much more about that. He felt more come running down his legs. What a mess, he thought, as he followed Spice’s directions to go to his knees and kneel over a low padded footstool. She gently directed him to an even more – to his mind – ludicrous position with his buttocks almost completely facing upward. She handed him a soft pillow to rest his head upon, patted his buttocks soothingly, then stood.

A moment later, Remus felt Spice’s cool fingertips prodding gently at his buttocks. She murmured something encouraging. He was about to ask her to repeat herself when he felt a slick metal tube enter his anus. He gasped.

“Do tell this girl immediately if it hurts you,” she said.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, trying his best not to tense up. “You’ll be the first to know.”

The tube entered him a bit further, then he heard a slight squeaking noise as if she had turned on a faucet. Almost immediately, he felt warm liquid enter his bowels. He shifted, alarmed by the sensation and uncertain whether to stop it or not.

“What are you putting inside me?” he breathed.

“It’s just a solution of warm water, vinegar, and some essential oils,” she replied. “It may sting at first, but that should pass as any possible infection is removed and all abrasions are soothed.”

The solution kept filling him. He could feel the pressure building in his bowels, in his intestines. He was going to shit, he knew it, and he would embarrass himself completely in front of her.

“Um… Spice, I…”

“Shhh,” she said, rubbing a hand over his buttocks once more. “It’s uncomfortable at first, as this girl is well aware. But it’s almost all inside. Then all Sir has to do is wait for two minutes and then Sir may expel everything.”

“Two minutes!” He’d never last that long. Tears collected in his eyes from the strain of holding back and still more water was coming in. A gallon, at least!

“There,” she said finally. “It is all in.” She swiftly removed the nozzle, then shoved something else inside him. Something pliable surrounding something hard. A thick sponge? Around plastic? It felt like… it felt phallic. Like a cloth-wrapped dildo, maybe?

Spice got to her feet. He could hear her moving equipment around, running the faucet, scrubbing something in the sink. “A timer has been set,” she said. “When the tone sounds, Sir is to move to the toilet and remove the buttplug. Then Sir should go to the shower and rinse before entering the tub. If it is preferred, this girl may be summoned to help Sir. Otherwise, this girl shall return in twenty minutes to scrub Sir’s body.”

“Fine, fine,” Remus said, gritting his teeth. He heard Spice leave the bathroom, but not before she switched off the main light, leaving only a dozen or so short candles perched on the edges of the tub, the toilet and the counter to alleviate the darkness.

He waited. The water inside his bowels churned. He needed to bear down, but every time his muscles involuntarily did so, he felt his arse clench around the thickly padded buttplug stuck up inside him. It was rather like having a cock that refused to budge, a sensation for which he’d never quite cared. He reached around behind him, curious to try and determine exactly what she had placed inside him. He was rather startled to find a short handle, and when he touched it, it wriggled and it… hit… that… spot!

His body exerted a spasm of unexpected pleasure and suddenly, the pressure in his bowels, the _idea_ of the cleansing water, the buttplug, the long line of men with their eager cocks and their crude words and their dismissive miens and the ritualistic nature of the entire experience seemed to come together into one huge _click!_ of realization and he surrendered to it.

The timer went off. Remus struggled to his feet. He had to brace himself on the counter in order to maneuver his way to the toilet. As he moved into position, he was unsurprised to realize his cock was rock hard once more.

This will make seven, he thought. Perfect. Lucky number seven. He grabbed hold of his sore cock and squeezed it tight, stroking it roughly as his other hand reached around behind him once more and twisted the buttplug inside him.

“That’s it, you little slut,” he whispered. “Give it up again, you filthy whore. You loved having all those men sweat it out over your arse, didn’t you! Fucking you, shagging you senseless, paying their dues at the door for the privilege. What would the boys at school think of you now, if they saw you, hm? Pleasant Remus Lupin, such a nice boy, spreading his arse for all comers.”

He pulled at his prick harder.

“You’re pathetic, that’s what you are. What would Roland think if he saw you now? He’d be ashamed of you, that’s for sure. Or Dumbledore. Or McGonagall. Or Peter. Heh. ‘Using my name?’ he’d want to know,   
‘Whyever for? Who are you hiding from, “John Peters”?’ But Snape – he’s always known it. He’s always seen it in you. The filthy little werewolf sex fiend can’t get enough, always in heat, always looking for the next big cock, oh fuck me! Fuck me! Ah-h!”

He pulled out the plug and came with a strangled cry. While nothing shot from his cock except a dry, shuddering sensation, plenty gushed from his bottom: loathing, disgust and despair, leaving him empty.

Once his knees stopped trembling, he staggered to the shower and mechanically rinsed off his buttocks and thighs. He stumbled a bit as he made his way across the floor, not caring if he stepped on the thick mat or the slippery tiles.

He sank into the tub and considered drowning.


	22. You Remind Me I Live In a Shell

Twenty-two minutes after Severus walked out of Lady Heather’s he walked into Hogwarts. Remus hadn’t needed to escort him all the way to his rooms on the dungeon level, but he did not mind the company, so he did not make a fuss about it, either.

The school was virtually empty during the summer. Severus found it restful after the chaos of the last weeks of spring term, but it was lonely, too. Even though he knew he would soon hate the influx of crazed, homesick First Years and crazed, full-of-themselves Seventh Years and all the mind-numbed Years in between, it was still better to have people around than not. Even if all they were doing was walking him to his door and then saying good night.

Except Remus didn’t just turn at the door and go back the way he came. Instead, he pushed past Severus – rather rudely, too – and entered Severus’s room. Startled and uncertain, he nevertheless closed the door to the hallway. Severus glanced about the room; the house elves had straightened up the piles of magazines on the floor and dusted the shelves. They’d also laid a small, cheerful fire in the hearth. Remus took no apparent notice of any of it; he just sat uneasily on the edge of Severus’s sofa, elbows on knees and head in hands.

Severus waited as long as he dared before saying, “Er, Lupin? Is there some additional portion of this evening’s activities yet to occur? Because I must tell you, I’m rather tired. I was hoping to be able to simply shower and go to bed. I have a lot to do tomorrow.” He glanced at the clock. It was nearing five AM. “Or rather,” he added, “later today.”

Remus sighed. He glanced up at Severus, nodded, then said, a curious expression on his face, “Why do you think I arranged this thing at Lady Heather's? Honestly, now.”

Severus took an involuntary step backward. He glanced down and discovered he was standing on bare flagstones; the edge of the intricately woven Persian carpet lay a scant centimeter from the tips of his boots. “I imagine precisely for the reasons you told me the other night.”

“Which were?”

“You thought I should have at least one sexual encounter where I was the one in control,” he replied. Since leaving Gary’s side, he’d been worried about being able to maintain his usual standards of dignified behavior. For some reason, being emotional and speaking of painful memories was too easy with a stranger, but it was still difficult to reconcile with his preferred mode of behavior. He was relieved to discover he had not lost his self-possession.

Remus leaned forward slightly, his expression intent. “Do you really think that's the reason? The true, deep-down, underlying reason?”

He shrugged, nodded, then shook his head. “I just gave you exactly what you said the reason was, but… No. It's more likely, given the chain of events that led us to Lady Heather's, that you were taking pity on my lack of sexual expertise and were hoping to give me a sort of Master Class,” he said, the words falling out of his mouth before he had a chance to examine them more carefully.

To his credit, Remus had the grace to look ashamed. He nodded, saying, “That's certainly plausible, but it's not the truth at all. My original reason was exactly as I told you.” He stood up and faced the hearth, his back to Severus, and folded his arms across his stomach.

Severus didn’t know what to say. He was tired and a feeling a bit grimy. He desperately needed his shower and his bed, although if this conversation went on much longer, he would probably skip the shower.

Finally, Remus turned halfway around. He glanced at Severus almost apologetically, then said, “Truth is, Severus, I've only been jealous twice in my life: with Roland just after we got together… and with you tonight. I hated every moment you were in that room with ‘Gary’ –“ he gave the name a spiteful, sarcastic twist “ – but by the time you had left the waiting room, there was nothing I could do about it. I hated knowing he was touching you, making you feel good, giving you pleasure and I... I wasn't. It wasn't me doing that for you, but someone else. You have no idea how much I hate that I made that decision, that I went through with it.” He huffed softly and said, almost to himself, “Albus warned me that I might regret it later, but I didn't listen. I thought I was doing you some huge favor. I never knew I was setting myself up to be hurt so badly.” He looked at Severus again, almost wincing as he asked, “Did you at least enjoy it?”

Somber, Severus replied, “Very much.”

Remus’s shoulders slumped and he glanced away. “I see. Well. I guess that's that, then.”

“What's what?” Where was Remus going with this? What was his purpose?

Still looking away, his hands now stuffed into his trouser pockets, Remus said, “You're probably figuring out a time you can go back to see him.”

Severus slipped his long fingers into his own pockets, unconsciously mirroring Remus’s pose. “No,” he said. “Gary may be many things, but he's not that good a liar.”

If possible, Remus seemed to deflate even more. “Oh?”

“I mean,” Severus clarified, “he's not a _good enough_ liar. I know he lied to me about… certain things, but it was a pleasant lie and so I let myself believe it, just for then.” He hoped Remus didn’t question him further about that. It had been a beautiful lie. Gary had tried to convince him that he had a lover ‘just like Severus’ in so many ways, but it was obvious he had made the boy up on the spot. He hadn’t kept his timeline right. At one point, he said that he and ‘James’ had gotten together “just over a year ago,” and the next moment he said how they had been together “over two years.” If he were in a relationship with someone whom he loved, Severus thought, he would know the exact hour, the precise minute, it had begun. For example, had he handled things better with Remus, he would be remembering 11:23 PM, July 20, 1995. 

Remus straightened up a bit at that. “So… you're not falling for Gary?”

He almost laughed. “Certainly not! He's much too young, for one thing, and he lives in a  
foreign country, for another. Is there a point to any of this?” He wanted that shower, but more than that, there was a pillow calling his name. He ignored the tiny hope sparking in a dim corner of his brain that Remus had some ulterior motive for asking these questions, like ‘jealousy.’

Remus glanced at him, half-smiling. His eyes seemed to catch something in the dim light, a reflection off the polished furniture perhaps. “Good.”

Struck by the look in his golden eyes, Severus could only respond with a gruff, “Honesty is very important in a friendship.”

Remus faced him once more, his head cocking at a considering angle. “You know, I’ve heard that somewhere.” He grinned playfully.

Severus shifted, moving a bit closer to the Persian carpet. “You be honest with me now.”

“All right.” Remus swallowed hard.

Bracing himself for the answer, Severus asked, “Do you think less of me for what I did with Gary?”

Remus’s eyes grew wide, horrified. “No! Gods, no! Sev, you – “ Remus stopped at Severus's admonishing look. "Sorry – ‘Severus,’ you deserve happiness as much as anyone else. No one comes into this life deserving to be insulted or abused or-or neglected. I'm... I'm glad you had a good experience,” he said, his eyes locked on Severus’s. “I truly am. I just wish it could have been with _me_.”

Thunderstruck, Severus fought to keep his immediate reaction (an enthusiastic, grinning blush) off his face. Strong emotion kept his face averted until he was finally able to ask, a sly twist to his words, “I'm only allowed the one, then?”

His sudden daring alarmed and thrilled him. He felt his heart thud in his chest. Was this flirting? Was he actually flirting with Remus? Could it be possible?

Remus blinked several times before he was able to blurt out, “N-no! Of course not!” He paused, flushing a bit. He held up his hands in mock surrender, smiling in a shy, playful way. He took a deep breath and said, “Let me start over. You said you were tired. I am, too. Portkeying halfway around the world twice in three hours is asking a lot of men our age –“ Severus smirked “ – so I'm going to let you shower and get some rest. I'm going to go home now myself and do the same.”

Severus nodded his agreement, but he was a bit uncertain what Remus had gained from their little ‘chat,’ and he was more than a bit worried that his attempt at flirtation had made the other man uncomfortable. He should probably keep to his previous modes of behavior, at least where Remus was concerned, he decided.

“Right, then,” he managed to say. “Off you go.” He guided Remus to the door, opening it wide.

Remus paused on his way out. He put a hand on Snape’s upper arm and asked, “Would you allow me to take you to dinner tomorrow night? Which is actually later today, but... you know. Would you?”

Severus had no answer except to say, “Of course. I look forward to it. At what time shall I meet you? And at which restaurant?”

Remus just smiled at him, a hint of devilment in his eyes. “I'm going to surprise you. Nothing terribly formal, but it's not a pub, so don't wear your work clothes, all right?”

“F-fine,” he stammered. “What time?”

“I'll be by to pick you up at seven.”

Severus nodded. It sounded like a date. A real date, like other people had. It was not just ‘let’s all go to Rosemerta’s for drinks after the OWL results are due,’ or even ‘if we happen to see each other after the conference, I’ll save room for you at the table.’ It was an honest-to-Aphrodite _date_. Stunned and hoping against hope Remus didn’t end up changing his mind or calling to cancel or forgetting to actually come by, he said nothing else.

Remus nodded, too, his eyes mapping Severus’s face, his mouth curved in a mysterious smile. He lifted his hand from the other man’s arm to touch his cheek, caressing the soft skin for a moment, then he leaned close, closer, his eyes drifted shut and then – 

Severus gasped soundlessly as Remus’s lips touched his for the first time. Softly, slowly, their lips clung firmly to each and then parted. He felt a gentle brush of Remus’s tongue before the other man pulled away. “Good night, Severus,” he said. “Dream sweetly.”

He watched as Remus strode back up the corridor until he was out of sight and all he could hear were his footsteps echoing in the darkness. He closed the door, startled to realize he hadn’t moved since Remus had left. He found himself touching his lips. They actually _tingled_. Bizarre. They hadn’t tingled when Gary kissed him.

He shook his head, then stretched his back a bit, hearing the joints pop as he moved. He decided to take a quick shower before bed after all. He doused the fire in the sitting room, then lit the candles in his bedroom and bathroom before stripping quickly. He barely remembered starting the shower or even washing himself, but he must have. There were soap suds in the drain and his skin was wet. He combed out his hair, gave it a good run-over with a towel, then doused the candles and crawled into bed.

Despite his exhaustion, he found sleep elusive. He kept reviewing everything that had happened to him in the past few weeks, over and over again. It was enough to make him consider “borrowing” Dumbledore’s Pensieve just so he could get some sleep.

That first night with Remus, the way he pulled off his clothes, threw him on the bed and _growled_ at him.

He grinned. He did like hearing that _grrrrowlll_.

The forceful penetration, having to hang on tight to the headboard to avoid being propelled through the wall. It was the first time he’d ever come while someone else had been touching him. Of course, it had also been the first time in more than six years he had been with anyone at all.

Then that horrid ‘conversation’ and his hasty exit – he refused to call it a ‘retreat’, even though it obviously was. And Remus hadn’t left it at that. He’d come calling two days later, they’d got drunk on the rest of the scotch, got foolish with that annoying game of 20 questions, and that led straight to Gary.

Beautiful, perfect Gary. All those muscles, that smooth, bronzed skin, those hands and that stomach and that heated expression just before he came. And he’d _held_ him afterward! He hadn’t pushed him out of bed, he’d – he’d _cuddled_ with him, stroked his arm and lain quietly and still.

And Gary had allowed Severus to imagine Remus was there, instead. That it was Remus who kissed him, Remus who stroked his chest and shoulders, Remus who spread his legs and Remus who gasped and groaned while he made love to him. That it was Remus who wanted him, desired him, needed him.

That Remus was his lover. His alone.

With that image foremost in his mind, Severus began stroking his eager erection while he replayed his memories with Gary. He started with that first perfect kiss, only he substituted Remus in place of the boy. And it was Remus whose arse welcomed his hungry cock and Remus who wrapped his legs around his narrow waist and Remus who begged for more and harder and when Severus, gasping, spurt into his own hand, it was Remus who shuddered and cried out, and then it was Remus’s come in his palm and Remus whose eyes glowed with renewed lust when he watched Severus lick himself clean.

It would always be Remus.


	23. It Ain't What You Do (It's the Way That You Do It)

The next Order meeting occurred on the 23rd and provided Remus a perfect opportunity to speak to Snape. Remus had tried in the intervening days not to notice if Kingsley were giving him any particularly keen or otherwise out-of-the-ordinary looks. If he were, he was hiding it well. The man didn’t even seem to notice that Remus maneuvered somewhat clumsily to sit next to Snape at the table. Or rather, he didn’t make any bother about it. Not like Sirius.

“I can’t believe you! Sitting there, all friendly and cozying up,” Sirius said, almost immediately upon that meeting’s adjournment.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Remus replied as calmly as he could. The last of their group had left the kitchen. He could hear Molly in the hallway reprimanding the twins for listening in, whispering furiously so as to avoid waking Mrs. Black.

“You. And Snnnnnnape!”

“His name is ‘Severus.’ Don’t you think it’s about time you started calling him by his proper name?”

Sirius just stared at him. “Sometimes, I don’t know who you are.”

Remus sighed heavily. “That’s probably because you never bothered to find out.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing – I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m tired. I just want to go to bed.” He smiled wearily. “Come on, Padfoot. Leave it alone. A lot’s happened since James and Lily were killed. You know that.”

“What I know is every square inch of that cell in Azkaban I had to call ‘home’ for twelve years.”

“Sirius, I-“

“Leave it alone, Remus,” Sirius said, heading for the door. “Isn’t that your advice?”

At the very next meeting, they discussed the particulars of Harry’s removal from his relatives without attracting suspicion or untoward notice. It was Tonks who had hit on the idea of sending the Dursleys notice of their winning a fictitious lawn competition. The family would be out of the way for several hours’ travel; there would be plenty of time to arrange for Harry’s escape.

Snape was probably the only Order member not to express delight at seeing the boy again. “I trust we will not be having many more meetings once that child is here, Dumbledore?”

At Snape’s words, a disappointed chill went down Remus’s spine. No meetings meant no opportunity to sit next to Snape and no chance to engage him in conversation afterward. The meetings always started promptly when Snape arrived, as his information was the most pertinent to their discussions, and he always left the house just after the meetings concluded. It left Remus very little time to strike up a conversation. If Harry were here, and that kept Snape away from the house, and soon the new term would start… when would Remus have any opportunity to make any sort of move on the man?

“We will continue to have meetings as warranted, Severus,” Dumbledore replied with a serene air. “Steps shall be taken to ensure Harry is informed of exactly what he needs to know and only when he needs to know it. I am very much of the opinion that he should not be expected to handle more than a normal 15-year old boy should handle.”

“I’ll say again, that is the wrong decision,” Snape replied. It was a familiar argument and most of the Order members closed their eyes or glanced away. “He needs more information, not less! He needs to know what is expected of him so that he can prepare for it-“

“He’s just a child, Snape!” Sirius shouted. “Give him the same chance everyone has to grow up with some happy memories.”

“Happy memories of being targeted by the Dark Lord every day? Hardly what I’d call suitable grounds for a corporeal Patronus!”

Sirius leaned forward, slamming his fist on the table. “You don’t know the first thing about Harry –“

“And you do?” Snape said with a scoffing noise. “I’ve spent between four and six hours a week with him for ten months for the past four years. How much time have you spent with him? Oh, that’s right. You’ve been in prison!”

Sirius shot to his feet. “Damn it, Snape!”

“Gentlemen, please!” Dumbledore said, holding up his hands. “Calm down, calm down.”

“I am calm, Headmaster,” Snape replied. Indeed, Remus noticed, despite a bit of reddening on his cheeks, Snape had barely moved when Sirius leapt to his feet.

He’s goading him, Remus realized. Hoping we’ll see Sirius as the irrational one for once, and maybe, side with him for a change? He laid a hand on Snape’s shoulder. “Severus has a point,” he said quietly. Sirius stared at him, disbelieving and shocked. Remus kept his eyes on Dumbledore. “Harry is a young man. In another year, he’ll be getting his Apparation license. He deserves to know something more about all this.”

“Of course,” Snape said quietly, “if he does, it will likely make him more eager to seek out his enemy before he is prepared to face him properly.”

“Make up your mind,” Sirius growled.

Remus, however, said quietly, close to Snape’s ear, “You really do just like to argue for the sake of arguing, don’t you?” But there was a smile on his lips that belied the chastising nature of his words.

Severus looked at him, startled; Remus liked the sudden expression and resolved to cause it again.

“I have always enjoyed a good debate,” Severus said, as if reluctant to admit such a thing. “It keeps one’s wits sharp.”

Remus nodded. “That it does.”

Around them, the meeting had been adjourned and the members were gathering their things and leaving. Remus stood when Snape did. “Have a drink with me?” he asked, putting a hand on Snape’s elbow to keep him from bolting.

Snape’s reaction was predictable. “I beg your pardon? A drink, did you say? Why?”

“I did say ‘a drink,’ and I think the reason would be obvious.”

Snape glanced at the kitchen door; Kingsley was exiting, the last to do so. The Auror was making a great deal of noise about ‘buying them all the first round.’ Remus wondered just what Kingsley might request in exchange for clearing the room so efficiently, then decided it would be worth it, whatever it ended up to be.

“Where would you like to go, then?”

“How about up to my room?” Remus offered. “I’ve got a bottle of twelve-year-old scotch that’s been itching to be opened. Interested?”

Snape hesitated. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

“I assure you; it’s excellent scotch.”

“Very well,” he said with a slight inclination of his head. “If you insist.”

“Excellent! If we hurry, we can make it past the others without their notice.”

They did. Kingsley had taken the adult Order members to a pub, while Sirius took himself off to who-knew-where to do who-cared-what. No one took any notice of Remus’s absence from the festivities or Snape’s presence as the two men hurried up the stairs. Remus led Snape to his room at the end of the hall on the third floor, barely speaking a word the entire time.

~~

After he lit the lamp, Remus shut the bedroom door, latching it securely but without fuss. Snape took the opportunity to glance around the small room. He had always wondered what sort of things remained in the Black house. A small part of him was pleased to note the small imperfections in the heirloom pieces and the general tackiness of the out-of-fashion bed linen and drapes. He allowed Remus to push past him in the crowded room to his dresser. Curious, he watched as Remus opened a small, deep drawer to reveal the promised scotch and a pair of mismatched glasses.

“Have a seat,” Remus offered. “This’ll just be a moment.” He opened the bottle with a few practiced moves.

There was no place to sit except the bed, but as that seemed rather presumptuous, Snape replied, “I shall stand.”

Remus paused before pouring the liquor. “You’re meant to make yourself at home,” he said.

“This is not my home,” Snape replied.

Remus poured the drinks, unwilling to get into an argument now that he was finally alone with the man. “Suit yourself,” he said, handing a glass to Snape and taking one for himself. “Cheers!”

Snape watched as Remus bolted the small measure, then did the same with his own. It stung his throat, burned him as it went all the way down and he began to cough. Remus laughed a bit, eyes sparkling, as he pounded him unhelpfully on the back.

“I believe I informed you I was unused to drinking,” he said, drawing himself up straight.

“You did,” Remus replied. His eyes were still dancing with merriment. “You didn’t have to gulp it, though. This is not a competition.”

He had no ready reply, so he simply put the glass back on the dresser. Remus did the same. “Did you want some more?” he asked.

Always polite, Snape thought. Aloud, he said, “No, thank you. That will do me just fine.”

“All right then,” Remus agreed. He seemed to want something to do, because he busied himself putting the bottle back into the drawer and setting the glasses on the bedside table.

Rather than face an increasingly awkward situation, Snape decided it was best to leave now. He had no idea why Remus had invited him up to his room beyond the stated purpose. They had had their drink; what reason was there to stay now?

Of course, Snape could imagine another reason: sex. He could well imagine Remus as a sexually active man. After all, hadn’t Kreacher made some snide remark to him just before that last meeting, about ‘filthy werewolves having it off in the hall closet with Aurors who hadn’t the common courtesy to have skin the proper color and making a mess for poor Kreacher to rectify’? Clearly, Remus was not lonely. What Snape had trouble imagining was Remus wanting to have sex _with him_. Wasn’t he too old? Too ugly? Shouldn’t Remus be lusting after someone young and attractive, like Bill Weasley?

Or was this just a one-off, something to tide the lycanthrope over until he could get to his preferred nocturnal entertainment? It could be a dare cooked up between him and Black. That was another distinct possibility.

“I should go,” he said, aiming for brusqueness. “It’s getting late and I’ve much to do tomorrow.”

“Stay a little longer,” Remus said pleadingly.

He almost sounds sincere, Snape thought. “Is there something on your mind you need to discuss with me?” he asked, folding his arms as forbiddingly as he knew how. “If so, spit it out. I haven’t got all night. It’s already after eleven.”

“Jesus, Snape,” Remus said with a small laugh. “Loosen up. Relax. I just want to… to talk a bit. Get to know you. Be your friend.”

“My friend?” Snape asked. The idea was ludicrous. Absurd. He was about to say so, when Remus suddenly put his hands on Snape’s arms and tugged at them, pulling them away from his body. He was about to ask ‘what do you think you are doing’ when Remus stepped close and closer to him, his face slightly upturned, his mouth gently curved, his eyes drifting shut and out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw movement so he turned his head. Remus began nuzzling his neck, his mouth open and warm against his throat, his lips and tongue tracing an intricate design. The mirror over the dresser reflected them both and Snape watched, eyes wide and burning, as Remus lifted his arms to Snape’s robes and pulled them off his shoulders before returning to unbutton his coat.

So it was to be sex, then.

Snape assisted Remus by tugging off his coat and letting it fall to the floor. Remus pressed even closer to him. His shirt began to feel too small. He wanted it off. Four hands unbuttoned and pulled and soon exposed his heated skin to the cooler bedroom air. Remus’s lips fixed on Snape’s collarbone. In the mirror, Snape watched as his reflection’s head fell back, mouth opening in a silent gasp. In the dim reflected light, the two figures appeared almost… angelic.

When Remus reached for Snape’s belt, Snape went for Remus’s shirt. Neither man could do much else beyond undress the other, but when both were shirtless and trouserless, they fell on each other as starving men to a feast. When Remus bent his neck to lick at Snape’s nipple, Snape looked down to see the bared, slightly scarred, shoulder. He dared to open his own mouth, to bend his own neck, to taste that stretch of skin over muscle and bone, to revel quietly in the smooth texture and salty taste.

Remus shuddered. Snape almost ceased his oral ministrations. Perhaps Remus didn’t want him to initiate contact? But then Remus groaned, and Snape thought it was a good sort of groan, so he licked Remus’s shoulder again, and moved toward Remus’s neck, and then Remus had his hands on Snape’s bare hips and was pulling him away from the wall, away from the dresser, onto the bed.

Snape found himself forcefully pushed onto the mattress. Before he could really catch his breath or let his fogged brain decipher what was actually happening or formulate a response in the event it was all a nasty trick, Remus – a nude and quite visibly _erect_ Remus – had _growled_ at him, his eyes moving up and down Snape’s naked body. A moment passed, Remus licked his lips, and then he climbed on top of Snape, pushing him further backward onto the bed.

Their cocks lined up almost immediately. Both men moaned at the thrilling contact, Remus adding the words, “You feel so _good_ , Severus! So hot…”

He did feel hot. Between the two of them, they were creating a great deal of heat, what with their constantly moving hands roaming up and down each other’s chests and sides, and their cocks jabbing into each other and sliding up and down. Remus kept his mouth moving constantly across Snape’s throat and chest and Snape responded by arching his back and carding his fingers through Remus’s thick, silky hair.

“I want you,” Remus moaned. “I want to be in you.”

“All right,” Snape replied, both loving and hating his ready acquiescence. He gloried in Remus’s firm grip on his waist, shoving him up toward the headboard, the fierce expression on his face as his arousal grew more desperate. He despised how eagerly he accepted Remus’s direction, how his arsehole twitched in anticipation, and how his thoughts narrowed to focus only on the other man, what he wanted and what he was going to do – and how enthusiastically he moved into position.

Of course, he almost clocked Remus on the side of the head with his knee while he was wriggling out from underneath, but those sorts of accidents happened all the time, didn’t they? Besides, he was a little rusty at getting around on his back when someone was laying across his front.

He crawled up the mattress to the headboard and spread his thighs. He glanced over his shoulder to check Remus’s reaction. Would he want him like this? Or did he want him to assume a more receptive stance? With his face in the pillow, say?

Remus’s eyes seemed to be fixed on his backside. Snape almost cringed, but refused to allow his trembling to become anything more than excitement. Then Remus began stroking his buttocks, then bent to kiss one bony cheek, and Severus reminded himself that if Remus had been looking for some other man to have in his bed, he should have gone ahead and chosen him instead. If Remus were unhappy with Snape’s bony, unappealing form, that was Remus’s mistake and there was nothing either one could do about it now.

Thankfully, Remus said nothing to indicate his feelings on the matter. Instead, he moved up behind Snape and rested his cock on the narrow cleft of his behind and he – and he – _growled_ again. Snape’s head shot up. His cock hardened almost to steel. Remus continued to growl as he shoved two slick fingers into Snape’s arse and where he got the lubricant from, Snape had no idea and could not have cared less.

After a few strokes with his fingers, Remus fairly snarled, “Grab the headboard.” Snape immediately obeyed.

“That’s it,” Remus said approvingly. He rubbed his palms across Snape’s back and around to his chest, tweaking his nipples with the tips of his fingers. He mouthed obscenities against Snape’s skin as his cock pushed insistently up into Snape’s slicked orifice.

Snape almost yelped when Remus finally, forcefully, entered him. The bed began to bang against the wall, _thump, thump, **creak!**_ , _thump, thump, **creak!**_ He was grateful for the headboard; holding on to it gave him kept him from smashing into the wall. It also gave him leverage to push back at Remus. Together, they found a rhythm of sliding cock and welcoming hole, of trembling muscle and shuddering nerve.

He let his head hang down, his hair falling around his face, catching in his eyelashes and wet open mouth. Blindly, he stared at the shadows on the bedspread, his cock swinging free and hard, slapping against his stomach with every in-thrust, a thin line of clear fluid sticking between pale abdomen and ruby crown.

Above and behind him, Remus was panting, murmuring praise and urgency until with a violence unsuspected, he came, filling Snape with his seed and a sense of disappointment. I waited too long to let go of the headboard, he told himself, and now I won’t get to come with him inside. Damn it!

Remus collapsed forward, licked at Snape’s shoulder blade and wrapped his arms around Snape’s narrow chest. With a grunted, “Come on, then,” Remus pulled Snape backwards, balancing them both on their knees. His cock was still hard inside Snape’s arse. One of Remus’s hands held firmly to Snape’s chest while the other slid sensuously downward to take hold of Snape’s cock. He began to stroke it.

Snape didn’t know what to do with his own hands, so he let his arms hang freely. No one had ever touched him before like this, with the intent to give him pleasure. He wanted it to last, but knew Remus was probably only doing this out of a sense of guilty obligation. He therefore owed it to the man to come quickly. He wanted to hold out, enjoy this, but the overwhelming sensation of another man’s hand on his cock, of another man holding him so firmly, with such strength and determination, and the scent of sex in the air combined to push Snape close to the edge. He knew he was going to come hard and soon. He wanted to believe Remus was pleased with him; he wanted to believe Remus truly desired him – and wasn’t just looking for simple satisfaction. When he felt his come boil up from his balls, he found himself turning his face toward Remus’s throat as if for protection, as if to hide his expression as he shot toward the headboard.

Both men’s chests heaved with their exertions. Snape let his body fall forward, allowing Remus to withdraw, which he did with only slight discomfort. Snape stretched his body out onto his stomach, laying his head on the pillow for a moment while Remus flopped beside him with a groan.

“Wotcher, Severus,” he heard Remus say with a short laugh. “That was brill.”

Snape, his face turned away from the other man, felt a bit of the old panic. What did Remus expect now? Did he stay or go? He should definitely go, but when? How soon?

“What’d you think, Sev?”

“Don’t call me ‘Sev,’” he replied. “I despise it.”

“Oh, sure. No problem. Er,” Remus said slowly. “What did you think?”

Snape swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. His backside felt a bit sore, but he’d dealt with worse in his time. He brushed his hair from his eyes, took a deep breath and replied, “It was… good.” Yes. ‘Good’ was an acceptable word. It was not uncomplimentary and it was not something that could get him into trouble later for being too effusive. It was a bit more than inaccurate, but if this was nothing more than a joke, if Black were going to pop out of the wardrobe or something, flashing a camera, well…. ‘good’ would suffice.

“Just ‘good’?” Remus said with another chuckle. “I’ll have to work on that, then.”

Snape shrugged, then got to his feet. He made his way over to his clothes and began to sort them out. He found his pants and pulled them on. He refused to assuage any of Remus’s hurt feelings by telling him the truth: that it was more than good and he wanted to do it again, very soon. 

“Is something wrong, Severus?” Remus asked. He rolled onto his side and watched Snape continue to dress.

“Nothing at all,” he replied. “Why?”

“You’re getting dressed. You’re leaving.”

“You did not expect me to remain the night, did you?”

“Well…”

“And what about breakfast tomorrow? How were you planning to explain my presence to Molly? To the children? To Black?” He kept dressing, but prepared himself to undress, just in case Remus asked him to stay longer. If he were going to get the opportunity to go around again with the man, he was going to take it.

“Good point.”

Ah. Then there would be no repeat performance. It was probably just as well, he told himself, shrugging on his coat. He folded his robe over one arm and picked up his shoes in one hand.

“I should be going,” he said.

Remus frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Nothing,” he lied.

“Severus…”

“What?”

Remus huffed. He threw an arm into the air in apparent exasperation. “Friends don’t just run off when they’ve got something to say. They just say it!”

“’Friends’?” Snape repeated. “Since when are we friends?”

Remus blinked at him, astonished. “Since a long time, I thought. I mean, why else…?” He gestured at the room, his nudity, Snape’s presence.

“Oh. So you have sexual relations with all your friends? Do tell,” he replied. “And here I thought Black was straight!”

“He is.”

“Then you aren’t friends?”

“Damn it, Snape!” Remus hissed in frustration. “You’re twisting this all around. I want us to be friends –“

“Then again I must ask what this was all about? Do you go around fucking all your friends? It’s a simple question.” He had intended to go into the bathroom, piss and put on his shoes and robe there, but if Remus were going to delay him, he decided to put his boots on while they argued.

“I don’t go around fucking my friends.”

“Then I am not your friend, am I.”

“What? Snape! I..!”

His boots buckled and his robe in place, Snape sneered at Remus. “Congratulations, Lupin. You got whatever it was that you were after. You finally got me on my knees and thoroughly buggered. The other Marauders would have been so proud of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be.” With that, Snape exit the room, closing the door behind him.

Remus jumped up to follow him, but realized he couldn’t, as he was still quite nude. Once the door had shut, he fell back on the bed with a shouted, “ _Damn it!_ ”

What was he going to do now?


	24. Roman Knows

By the 24th crack of the whip across his arse, he was done with the screaming, done with the leather cuffs keeping his arms in place over his head, done with the stinging, numbing pain, and he was even done with the idea that any of this could ever be a sexual turn-on. Not once during the entire ordeal had he got hard. He’d tried doing what Spice had suggested. He’d given into the pain, given into the idea that he was required to remain in position to be whipped for the pleasure of another. In this case, Vlad’s friend Roman, a Dom who trained male slaves. Still, nothing.

By the 25th crack of the whip across his arse, Remus gave up and shouted, “Lycanthropy!” The safeword thus invoked, Roman dropped the whip. A moment later, Spice hurried to Remus’s side.

“Sir? Are you all right?” she asked anxiously. The nude woman stood in front of Remus and gently patted his face. Behind him, Roman unlocked the cuffs and helped Remus move onto a low nearby chaise. Vladimir handed Remus a pillow to comfort his head as he slowly stretched himself out.

“Rest there, John,” Vlad said. “Spice, go get the salve and apply it to his bruises.” She hurried off.

Roman and Vlad knelt on either side of the chaise, their leather pants creaking as they moved. Roman ran his fingers through Remus’s hair. “John?” he asked softly. “How are you feeling? Say something.”

‘Uhn,’ was all Remus could manage. He could barely even open his eyes.

Spice arrived with the salve. She knelt beside the chaise as well and began to apply the liniment to Remus’s buttocks.

Vlad prodded Remus’s shoulder. “Come on, John. Say something. What happened?”

Remus shrugged. “It didn’t… nothing happened. I wasn’t... transformed. It just hurt. No offense, Master Roman.”

“You don’t have to call me that any more,” Roman assured him, half-smiling though his eyes were bright with concern. “It was just for the scene, to help you get into the right frame of mind for the discipline.”

“It didn’t help,” Remus said. “I felt ridiculous, kneeling in front of you, ‘confessing,’ begging for your correction.”

Roman smiled kindly. “It can be difficult the first time, if one is not drawn to it naturally.”

Vlad chuckled. “The first time I whipped my Spice, she was so grateful for it I couldn’t keep her from coming. Isn’t that right?”

“Master is always correct,” Spice said softly, still attending Remus’s bruises.

Roman caught Vlad’s eye and said, “I think your girl is a bit too entranced with John’s arse.”

“I agree,” Vlad said. “Hurry up and finish your task. You are forgetting your place.”

Remus heard Spice gulp guiltily and felt her smear the liniment across his bare skin even more assiduously. He hadn’t been aware that Spice had any interest in him, but if Vlad and Roman saw it… It really wasn’t his place to interfere. He’d tried that once and been put soundly in his place – by Spice. She’d been furious that he had dared to get in the way of one of her punishments. In no uncertain terms, she informed him that _she_ had the ultimate say over what happened and what didn’t when it came to her and Vlad and that, despite appearances, despite the vocabulary, despite her need to submit to a strong male figure, she had all the control because she could always say ‘stop.’ She could always walk away.

It had been an intriguing revelation and one which Remus began to explore. In his position at the book shop, he was able to order books on the subject and educate himself on the nature of dominant and submissive people. He tried to apply his newfound knowledge to re-examine his relationships with his school friends, his co-workers, even customers at the bookshop. It was amusing, even diverting, and in some instances deeply thrilling, but not revelatory. 

His attempts at more practical study, however, had just fallen flat. Being dominated, being whipped and beaten, had done nothing for him except make him bruise his arse and bore him silly.

Roman sighed. “I suppose this means the sex is out?”

Remus grinned. “Weren’t you the one waxing rhapsodic over the beauty of tears on a male face? Be honest, Roman. You think you can get it up if you haven’t made me cry?” Even as he said that, he let his eyes flicker over the man’s well-developed chest. He had removed his shirt before picking up the whip and Remus had not got a terribly good look at the man. He was an impressive specimen and someone Remus would not have minded getting to know intimately in almost any setting.

“Good point.” Roman hesitated, then said, “But I do owe you something for letting me get this far, at least.”

“You mean you’re not angry with me?”

“Heavens, no,” Roman said. Beside him, Spice finished her task and sealed up the pot of liniment. She stood and moved away. Remus smiled at Roman’s words. “To be honest,” Roman continued, “I fully expected you to safeword out at some point. You, Mr. Peters, did not strike me as a submissive.”

“Guess not.” But how did Roman know that when Remus himself was uncertain?

“You’re too happy being independent,” Vlad explained. “Too confident in yourself. You’re also a bit too analytical, too aware of how people manipulate each other. As I’ve explained to you, a large portion of what we do as Masters is subtly manipulate our slaves into doing things they otherwise would never consider doing, and then show them how much they enjoy doing them. Before meeting me, for example, Spice would never have consented to being naked in front of anyone, but now she realizes wearing clothing is a privilege she does not always earn, much like having a proper name or something to call her own. Not even her breath is her own, you see.”

“I remember,” Remus said. He didn’t like talking about that aspect of his friends’ lives. Watching as Vlad had put Spice head to toe into a rubber body suit, sealed her mouth and provided her with tubes for air, then closed up those tubes for seconds at a time – all to prove a point to the girl – had incensed Remus so much, he had felt forced to interfere. It had been days before Vlad had consented to discuss the situation with Remus and the two had eventually come to an understanding. It was Spice, however, who received permission to speak to Remus as she pleased. She used no foul or inappropriate language, but never had Remus felt so wrong as when she had finished. He had then begged her forgiveness and the three moved into a new level of intimacy as friends. Remus became ‘Sir’, a sort-of ‘uncle’ or ‘big brother’ figure to the slave, and she and her master taught him about the realities of Master/ slave relationships as they practiced them. His questions and curiosity had led him to try being fisted, and for his twenty-first birthday, a ‘train.’ Aspects of each experience thrilled him, but ultimately they left him numb and empty.

Spice was ennobled by her experiences; Spice was a true submissive. Remus Lupin was not.

Roman patted his shoulder. “You are an exceptionally intriguing man, John Peters,” he said. “I could wish you had fallen for me. I could well use a slave like you.”

Remus laughed, seeing the compliment for what it was. “I’ll just bet you could.” He regarded the handsome, older man for a moment. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in a vanilla encounter?”

He looked scandalized. “You must be insane! I haven’t had vanilla sex in… twenty years or more.”

“Pity.”

Roman laughed. “However… if you’re so inclined, I did promise my boy a treat tonight. I had intended to let him suck you off while I fucked you –“

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Remus interrupted.

“Thank you,” Roman said quickly. “But if you couldn’t take the flogging, you wouldn’t have taken the rest of it. Oh, I had such plans for you. You have lovely eyes, truly, so I was not going to blindfold you. A gag, however, in shape of a penis, stuck well into your mouth. You would be tied across the sawhorse, I think. The boy underneath you, licking the both of us as I fucked you. It would have been… sweet.”

“Er… right.” Remus wasn’t so sure. He’d seen Spice on that sawhorse. She didn’t always enjoy it.

“You intended to come tonight. I think you should still,” Roman said. “If you have no objections, I could allow my boy to take care of you.” He leaned close to Remus’s ear. “I would greatly appreciate being able to watch. You could have him if you like, but I can assure you, he has excellent oral skills. I could direct him to suck out your arsehole instead. It’s an experience not to be missed.”

“And you’d be watching me?”

Roman nodded. “I think you’d look beautiful with my boy’s tongue up your arse, licking and sucking you to a trembling orgasm. You can be assured I shall be watching. And when you were done, my boy would receive my come as well, for I would be well on my way to a most delicious orgasm.”

Remus felt his breath catch. Just from the husky words alone, he was harder than at any point during the previous scene. “And you, Vlad? Would you be watching, too?”

Vlad considered him a moment. “Would you like that? I certainly wouldn’t mind. It won’t have the same effect on me as it does on Roman, but if it would please you then yes, I would.”

Remus wasn’t sure why he wanted Vlad there as well. Perhaps he just needed the man’s presence to reassure him that Roman would follow the rules. “Stay,” he said.

His friend seemed to understand what he meant. He nodded, exchanged a glance with Roman, then declared, “But Spice will not be permitted to watch. She has not earned such a right. She shall remain here, however, with her face in my lap and her mouth on my cock while you are pleasured. This will be her punishment for ogling your buttocks instead of keeping her mind on her duties. Is that understood, my pet?”

Spice’s response was quiet and respectful. “Yes, Master. I understand.”

Throughout the entire scene, Roman’s latest acquisition had been kneeling in one corner of Vlad’s dungeon, facing the wall. Dressed only in a thin, cotton loincloth, ‘boy’ was young and impossibly pretty with dark wavy hair, piercing blue eyes, pink lips and a slender, toned body. He was also exceptionally obedient. When Roman called him over, boy crawled on his elbows and knees to the chaise. Vlad and Spice moved off to Vlad’s throne, a tall, comfortable chair in the center of the back wall. Spice crawled onto the low step surrounding the chair and moved into position between her master’s legs. Roman helped Remus shuffle himself into position lower on the chaise: chest against the cushions, legs spread comfortably to either side, arsehole exposed and cock hanging free. Boy knelt up, his face inches from Remus’s backside.

“Don’t disappoint me, boy,” Roman said harshly, one hand in boy’s thick hair. “You will lick that arsehole as if it were my own. You will make him come. When he comes, you will collect every drop on your worthless tongue and you will show it to us both. You will wait until he says you may, and then you will swallow it. If you have pleased me, I will allow you to suck me as well. Do you understand?”

The boy struggled to nod his head; his hair was still in his master’s tight grasp.

“Good. Now get to it!”

Roman let go of the boy’s hair. He took several steps backward to another low, padded bench. He sat on it, opened his leather trousers and began to lightly stroke his cock. Meanwhile, his boy opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue and began to enthusiastically rim Remus’s arsehole.

Remus yelped at the first brush of the agile, wet tongue which swirled around his opening. He immediately pushed back at the boy’s face and moaned. The boy responded by slipping his tongue as deeply inside Remus’s arsehole as he could. He did not touch Remus with his hands, he had not been told to, but he did manage to seal his lips on Remus’s skin to create a delicious suction.

Remus was finally transported. That out-of-body experience that Spice once so eloquently described as ‘free-floating toward God’ was actually happening to him despite it being bound up in the trappings of dominance and submission. He didn’t care that Roman was watching him and getting off on it. He didn’t care that he’d never met this ‘boy’ before and that he didn’t know a single thing about him. He didn’t even care that his best friends in the Muggle world were also there, off to one side and moaning their way through their own sexual activities. In his mind, it was all centered on him. He was the sexy one, the one they all wanted to please. His pleasure was the goal. His enjoyment the source of their enjoyment. His orgasm, their orgasm. And the boy continued to lick and to suck and Roman continued to stroke himself and Spice continued to whimper as she sucked her own master who had closed his eyes in order to focus on his own pleasure.

And when Remus’s balls drew up tight, boy quickly diverted his oral attentions to his cock, accepting all of Remus’s offering with a lusty, grateful sigh. When he was done, Remus pulled back a little, giving the slave a chance to maneuver away from the chaise as he was told. Boy opened his mouth to his master, then to Remus. Now knowing the delight of a master who has given his pet a treat but withholds his partaking of it, Remus waited as long as the devil on his shoulder could entice him.

“You may swallow,” he said. The boy closed his mouth and swallowed slowly, his eyes focused strictly on Remus’s face.

“Get over here, boy,” Roman snarled.

The boy immediately went to his master’s feet. He kissed his way up the leather-clad legs to the reddened cock. Roman’s face went slack as his slave’s throat opened to accept him.

Remus collapsed comfortably on the chaise. It was his turn to watch. The boy’s head moved like a piston back and forth, the cock appearing and disappearing at a rapid pace. Finally, his eyes locked with his slave’s, Roman came with a shudder. He patted his slave’s hair. “Good boy,” he said, as if to a dog. “Good boy. You may have the blanket tonight.”

The boy glanced up at his master with a grateful smile, then snuggled close to Roman’s legs.

Remus looked to see what Vlad and Spice were doing. They had apparently finished as well. Spice sat in a similar position as the boy’s; Vlad was toying with her hair.

“Shall we adjourn to the drawing room, gentlemen?” Vlad suggested. “The slaves can clean up in here first.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Roman said, getting to his feet. “You heard Master Vladimir. Clean this place up. Obey Spice.” The boy nodded.

Remus got to his feet as well. Vlad handed him a clean robe. “Put this on,” he said with a wink. “You’re not a slave, you know.”

“I know,” Remus said, following the other two up the stairs to the main floor. He glanced back at Spice and the boy. They had begun washing the equipment in silence. He was certainly grateful he was not a slave; they missed out on real conversations and brandy in the drawing room after sex. He wondered what it would be like to be a master?


	25. The Love You Take

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode contains despair, foul language, and descriptions of rather brutal sex, which may trouble some readers.

He’d lost his humanity twenty-five years ago. Twelve lycanthropic Changes a year on average meant 300 Changes over his lifetime thus far. The idea was staggering.

He’d lost his virginity – his human virginity, which was the one he preferred to count, he’d lost only thirteen years ago. Since then, he’d had nowhere near 300 lovers, but he’d easily had 300 encounters. He supposed, on some cosmic level, it all equaled out.

He’d lost his innocence twelve years ago, when he’d come home to his flat and found his beloved Roland bleeding to death, along with his idealism. Innocence was something he could see in other people’s faces and he would ask himself, was he ever that young?

And what had he ever gained?

Twenty-four years ago his mother walked out, unable or unwilling to deal with his condition any longer, but twenty-three years and six months later, a new mother showed up determined to make him forget about the first. 

Nineteen years ago he forged three unforgettable, irreplaceable friendships, but those were stolen from him eleven years ago when one betrayed the other and outright murdered the third.

Thirteen years ago he fell in love and love was returned and the world was a beautiful place, but twelve years ago he discovered that nothing was forever.

But none of it, not one aspect of the past thirty years of his life had quite prepared him for that night at the Cock and Bull or the sight of that skinny blond boy pulling a train at a private party in the back room.

~~

Rob Wintersham gushed, “It’s fucking fantastic is what it is. He’s still tight, so if you want a go yourself, I’d hurry on in there and get to it.”

Remus laughed. “I’ve done my share of trains, thanks ever so. I’ll just stay here and relax, if you don’t mind. I’ve had a difficult day.”

“You’re not getting off that easy, mate,” Rob went on. He grabbed Remus’s arm and tugged him off the barstool. “Come on. It’s a celebration, after all. Our side’s gone all the way to the championship, it has, and this boy’s wearing the other team’s colors and comes striding in here pretty as you please.”

Alarmed, Remus pulled back. “You mean, he’s –“

“No!” Rob scoffed. “Course not! You can ask him yourself. He’s begging for it. There ain’t no one controlling him, either. Roman was in there a bit ago and he says the kid’s legit and he’s thinking of taking him in, but for now, he’s fair game.”

Roman was another Master, like Vlad, but Roman preferred to dominate men. Remus had taken a turn under Roman’s care, wanting to know what total submission felt like and if it were for him or not. He had lasted all of ten minutes before he’d called his safeword and ended the experiment. To his credit, Roman had never expressed anything more than mild disappointment at Remus’s decision, and the two had become friendlier since their initial meeting. Remus trusted Roman almost as much as he trusted Vlad, and if Roman said the boy was legitimate, then he was. Remus’s curiosity got the better of him and he followed Rob into the back room.

The boy was bent over a crate of imported vodka. Someone had given him towels to place under his knees, but otherwise, the boy was nude. His pale body stretched over the box, his head hanging down on one side while his thighs were spread against the other. A large, dark-skinned man currently plundered the boy’s arse with a long cock; with each in-thrust, the boy moaned and his body twitched.

Then the boy slapped his palms against the floor and demanded, “Harder… fuck me harder!” With a grunt and a look of exasperation, the dark-skinned man slammed himself hard enough against the boy that he shoved the entire box an inch across the cement floor.

When the man was finally ready to come, he pulled out and splashed his semen across the boy’s buttocks, adding to the mess already clinging to his skin. Remus nodded at the man as he zipped up and left the room. Rob pushed at him a little, but Remus still hadn’t quite made up his mind to participate. Was this truly consensual? Or was the boy too deep into sub-space to realize what was being done to him? For that matter, could a person that deep into sub-space make such a clear request to be fucked harder?

Then the boy turned his face toward the door. “Well? Aren’t you going to…” His eyes met Remus’s and his voice trailed off. “It’s you,” he said. “I was wondering when you’d turn up.”

Oh, fuck, Remus thought. Steve.

Aloud, he told Rob, “Get out. I’m not doing this in front of you. Keep the others from coming in here as well.”

“The door locks,” Rob said, a bit spitefully, but he did as Remus asked.

Hearing the lock click in the door, Remus moved closer to the boy. “Steve?” he asked. “That was your name, wasn’t it?”

“Fucking hell,” the boy replied with a dry laugh. “You remembered my name. I’m impressed. I really didn’t think you would.”

Remus crouched in front of Steve. He held out a hand to brush the blond boy’s fringe from his eyes, but stopped when the boy jerked backward. “Sorry,” Remus apologized, suffering a stab of remembered guilt through his gut. “Steve… what are you doing here? What’s going on?” He tried to discern the answers by examining Steve’s face. The boy was older now, it must have been more than a year ago that they’d met, but he’d lost that idealistic, hopeful expression Remus remembered. There were wrinkles around his eyes and light frown lines around his cheeks. He looked horrible. Am I somehow responsible for this, he wondered?

“What’s it look like?” Steve was asking. “I’m getting fucked. Or at least, I _was_. You going to climb up or not? Cause if you’re here to tell me to get out, I’m going to be a mite disappointed. I’m not done yet. I’ve only come twice.”

“Oh?” Remus didn’t know quite what else to say.

“I’m just getting warmed up,” he went on. “I usually get a half-dozen comes or more, depending on the quality of the cocks, of course.”

“Of course.” He stared at Steve. The boy he remembered had been nervous, stammering, shy and grateful for Remus’s attention. How had he come to this? Willingly bent over a box in a musty back room not caring who did what to him but begging for it to be even more extreme?

“You seem disgusted,” Steve said. “Are you disgusted, John? See, I remember your name, too. I remember everything about you.”

“Oh..?” he said, feeling weaker with every word.

“I remember thinking you were handsome and kind. You still have very kind eyes,” Steve said, shifting his body a bit to be more comfortable, but still bent over the box. “They’re an unusual shade of hazel. And you have a nice smile. Do you know what else I thought when I walked in here that night? I thought I might finally find someone who understood me, what I needed and wanted.”

“What was that, Steve?”

He smiled weakly, sickly, sarcastically. “What everyone thinks they need and want. Understanding. Absolution. Love.”

“From a stranger?” Remus scoffed, hiding his chaotic swirl of confusing feelings with scorn. “That’s a sure road to ruin, that is. You can’t get that from strangers.”

“Yeah. I figured that out after the way you _disposed_ of me. But you know what I can get, John? I can get royally fucked and I find I love it. I can’t get enough of it, in fact. And you’re the one who taught that to me.” He paused and then said with a peculiar smile. “You’re also the one who taught me to charge for the privilege.”

“Wh-what?” And then Remus remembered the money he’d tried to give the boy afterward. “That wasn’t… that was… It wasn’t meant like that.”

Steve shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I get twenty quid for a blow job, fifty for an arse-fuck in an alley. I don’t do too badly.”

Remus glanced around the dingy room. He spied an upturned hat with several bills visible inside. “Oh, Steve,” he murmured. “This wasn’t meant for you.”

“It’s all I’m good for,” he repeated. “You taught me that. What’s wrong? Ashamed of yourself? Why should you be? You got what you wanted that night and I got a valuable lesson. Plus twenty quid.” He grinned. “Hence my pricing structure.”

“That’s… this is crazy. You can’t be serious.” Remus stood up and took a few steps back, and he felt more sure of himself, and even a tiny bit angry. “This is a bit over-the-top, don’t you think? All this is over a quick suck? I think you’re, pardon the expression, blowing this out of proportion, don’t you? You just gave me a blow job. It’s not like I fucked you or something! Get some perspective, for god’s sake.”

Steve sat up on his knees. He regarded him coolly. “A blow job?” he repeated. “I _gave you_ a blow job? Is that what you think?”

“It’s what happened,” Remus said, doubt niggling at the back of his brain. “Yeah.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groaned. “You’re fucking unreal, is what you are! I didn’t _give_ you anything, much less a blow job! You took it from me, that’s what you did. You _took_ a blow job. I didn’t _give_ you one.” He stood up and grabbed his jeans, thrusting his legs through them. “There’s a difference, you know. And you might as well say you fucked me. You fucked my mouth. My throat was sore for days. I’d never done that before,” he said, zipping up. “I’d never done anything like that before. I’d never even kissed a bloke before and you do that to me. Why did you, anyway? I asked around afterward. It seems you do that sort of thing a lot. Why’d you pick me?”

Remus stared at him, horrified. He smelled vomit. “What sort of thing?”

“You know,” Steve said. “Lead some young bloke into the bathroom for a quick pull and then out you go on your merry way.”

He had no answer. He took another step backward and found himself pressed up against a wall of liquor crates.

“I just want to know why you chose me. Was it because I looked weak to you? Vulnerable?” He grabbed his orange and black football jersey and pulled it over his head.

He had looked vulnerable. He had seemed weak. That’s what had made him an easy mark. “It wasn’t me who chose you,” Remus said finally, the words needing to be forced out of him. “It was a friend of mine. It was a… it was just a dare, really.” _And why did those words sound so dangerously familiar?_

“A dare.”

Remus nodded. “Just a… a prank.” He smiled artlessly. He tried to look boyish. That had always worked when he was a boy. And why was his stomach roiling inside?

“That’s a lousy reason to hurt someone like you hurt me. That’s a lousy reason to do anything, in fact.”

“You’re… probably right.”

Steve folded his arms and looked Remus up and down. “Bet you did a lot of ‘pranks’ when you were at school, didn’t you.”

Remus nodded. He knew he shouldn’t lie, after all. Lying threatened to make his stomach hurt worse.

“And I bet you never really had to pay for it, did you. I bet no one ever pulled a prank on you quite as successfully, did they.”

That wasn’t exactly true, but this was neither the time nor place to explain about Sirius and Snape and the Shrieking Shack. “Why do you say that?”

“Because if you had, you’d never have done it then.” Steve slipped his feet into his beat-up trainers. “You’d never have, because you’d know how it feels. You must not know how it feels, so I’m going to tell you. It makes a person feel used. Disregarded. Like bloody rubbish, in fact!” He bent over and grabbed his hat full of money. He stuffed the money into his front pocket, still glaring at Remus. “And angry enough to hurt someone, but there’s no point in being angry like that because the person you want to hurt is the same person you want to… to take it away, all the hurt, and yet… you know they won’t because you know how little they regard you and it’s pointless. It’s all just pointless, so why bother, you know? Why fucking bother? Can you tell me that at least? Why should I fucking bother!” He shoved his hat onto his head with violent, jerking motions.

Remus, literally trapped in the corner, had no idea how to respond. “I don’t know,” he said, hating his inability to make peace with this tiny part of his past, yet somehow knowing it was vital he do so. How had he come to this? He’d always assumed the men he’d spent time with had been fully consenting. Had that been a lie? And was what he did to Steve (he refused now to allow himself to imagine he had been doing anything _with_ him) the same as he’d done in Hogwarts to more than one of those without the good grace to be sorted into Gryffindor that year? Was this why he had thrown up afterward? Had he finally realized he was nothing more than a bully, plain, pure and simple? Was there truly no hope for him to grow beyond that? For gods’ sake! He was thirty years old. He should be in a committed relationship, sharing a home with someone, deeply and irrevocably in love and here he was standing in a musty back room of a raucous bar with a rent boy _he’d_ created. A boy who’d only come to the wrong place at the wrong time while looking for the right things.

It was intolerable.

He felt nauseous again and even had to swallow back a mouthful of acid.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea what I was doing would hurt you like this.”

Steve sneered at him, an expression so reminiscent of a certain Slytherin classmate he wondered if he’d somehow been Polyjuiced or something. “Well, you did,” he said. “I only hope, for your sake, that I’m the only one you’ve been hurting.”

“What do you mean?”

He laughed, that dry, harsh sound. “Just that, I thought by the time I was old, like you –“ the words stung “ –that I’d be wrapped up with someone, you know, special. In some silly chocolate box cottage with roses ‘round the door. Someplace… some place _normal_ and – and safe.” He shook his head. “You’re probably standing there laughing at me in your head, naming me all sorts of fool for wanting something like that. You know I’m not fit for it, but you know what else? I’m going to make myself fit for it. What do you think of that?”

Remus looked steadily at him. His throat was tight, dry, burning. He needed a drink. An antacid. Anything. He kept looking at Steve, who kept looking back at him. He was waiting for some reply, something. An apology? An explanation? Remus had nothing more than that to offer. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he began. “I didn’t set out to. And I think you will find that place some day. Just… do yourself a favor and stay out of places like this. You’ll find nothing but rough trade here. This place, this life… it’s not meant for you.”

Steve straightened up a bit, his expression changing slightly from anger to curiosity to… pity? Remus wasn’t sure and wasn’t about to name it. Steve just nodded and adjusted his hat. He went to the door and unlocked it. He turned toward Remus and said quietly, “It’s meant for you though, isn’t it, John?”

Remus watched as he opened the door and went out into the bar. Thinking quickly, Remus cast a quick, wandless ‘notice-me-not’ spell at the young man. It was the least he could do for him. After all, he was wandering the wrong part of London to be wearing orange and black this day.

He decided to straighten up the room. It’d give him time to settle his stomach, at least. He put away the towels, pushed the vodka crate into the corner, and found a crumpled twenty pound note pressed flat and sticking to the floor. He peeled up the bill and stared hard at it.

Is it meant for you, Remus, he wondered. Is this truly meant for you?


	26. Man's Best Friend

Twenty-six hours to moonrise. Remus could feel the Change approach. It made him jumpy, jittery and altogether a jumble of nervous energy. He’d closed up the bookshop a few minutes early, sent the clerk home, shoved the till into the safe and headed out for Vlad’s townhouse. He wasn’t due back in to work for the next two days and he was practically itching for lack of sex.

He’d somehow caught the flu just after his last Change. He wasn’t sure just how that could have happened, but it had laid him up for a full week. Then he’d been listless and apathetic for another set of days. He’d ended up going to an apothecary on Diagon Alley for some Pepper-Up potion. He took the full dose, then spent the next three days driving his employees mad, cleaning and reorganizing the small bookshop. It had been like taking speed, he’d grown so accustomed to Muggle medication.

In other words, he hadn’t had sex in almost twenty-eight days and he was _more_ than ready to end his unanticipated chastity.

Upon reaching Vlad’s house, he felt himself get hard in anticipation. The sun had barely set; he snarled at the almost-full moon as it peeked above the horizon, then Spice opened the door.

“Sir!” she said with a broad smile and a short, respectful bow. “It’s been too long.”

Remus smiled back, admiring her artfully torn garment that barely concealed her shaven mons or her more generous, uppermost assets.

“Spice,” he said. “Nice outfit.”

She blushed prettily, standing aside to allow him to enter. “This girl was allowed to create it herself,” she said. “It is pleasing that Sir approves.”

Remus leaned forward to give Spice a quick kiss on her cheek. “Where’s Vlad, anyway? He promised me he’d arrange something special for tonight.”

She pouted slightly. “Master has not returned yet, but Sir is welcome to wait for him in the study. Brandy has been set out for Sir’s use. It is believed that Master intends to return with Master Roman and Master Roman’s latest acquisition.”

“A new boy, eh?” Remus grinned, heading into the study. “He certainly goes through them fast, doesn’t he.”

“This girl must agree,” Spice said with a carefully innocent expression. “But surely, Master Roman knows what he is seeking in a proper slave.”

“I think Roman simply enjoys breaking them in.”

Spice shrugged. “As Sir suggests.”

~~

The newest boy of Roman’s was, as all his other boys, dark-haired, beautiful, and quite young. This one had dark eyes as well and a thin nose, and could not be more than nineteen years old if he were a day. He knelt beside Roman’s chair, knees spread to display his rather large bollocks and elegantly formed penis. Remus found himself admiring that penis, but especially the bollocks, much to Roman’s delight.

“He’s a good one, isn’t he,” Roman said with a chuckle. “He’s got a responsive cock, that’s for sure. I’m thinking of piercing it. What do you think?”

Vlad, sitting in his usual seat by the fireplace, his feet propped up on Spice’s back, contemplated the boy’s package. “A jeweled stud, perhaps,” he mused. “Or you could let his pubic hair grow some more and simply paste jewels into the hair. I’ve done that with Spice and it’s most attractive.”

“We shall see,” Roman said. He finished his drink. “Are you ready, John?”

“I think so,” Remus replied. “For what, exactly?”

Roman grinned and turned to their host. “Are we ready?”

Vlad nodded. “If Spice has done her job, then yes, we are.” He lifted his feet from Spice’s back and stood up. “Let’s go and find out. I think you’ll be pleased, both of you. Heel, Spice!”

They left the room walking, as usual, quite fast. Spice and the newest boy hurried along on their hands and knees, being careful not to stray too far from their master’s sides while keeping to the softer carpeted floor.

~~

She had done her job. The furniture and equipment in the dungeon had been rearranged, with a new lighting configuration as well. Beams of white light shone on a central dais, upon which rested a cushioned stool, but nothing else. Vlad walked easily and without stumbling into a dark area to one side. Roman motioned to Remus to go onto the dais.

Once upon the dais, Remus discovered he could see virtually nothing else but what was illuminated inside the circle of light. This close to his transformation, however, and with that almost-full moon steadily rising in the sky outside, he could make out much of the remaining interior of the room. He saw Roman give whispered instructions to his boy, and he saw Spice carrying a wrapped bundle of objects toward the dais. She entered the circle of light, blinked a bit, then set the bundle to one side of the stool. Moving carefully, she guided Remus to sit on the stool. She left the circle.

Remus saw Spice drop to her knees and crawl to Vlad’s side. Then he saw Roman’s boy crawling toward the dais, and Roman collapse onto one of the chaise lounges, hidden in the darkness. Remus wasn’t sure what was going to happen next; he presumed Roman’s boy was given instructions, either that or Spice’s package would clue him in.

The boy knelt at the edge of the dais. Remus watched as the boy kissed the raised flooring and waited.

“Come here,” Remus said. As he’d not been told yet of any specific scene requirements, he figured he was in charge of whatever happened. He also knew, from years of experience, study and discussion, what this boy was likely to be able to handle, what would be considered ‘going too far,’ and what the purpose of Roman lending his boy to this scene might be. The boy was to become used to being used by others, in front of an audience, for the pleasure of his master. Likely, Roman was intending to take the boy to one of the underground clubs in London that specialized in such entertainments. Roman’s boys were well known in those clubs and well regarded for their obedience and willingness to serve. Not to mention their exquisite prettiness, which this boy had in abundance, Remus could tell.

The boy crawled slowly toward Remus. His limbs trembled a bit. He was nervous. That didn’t bother Remus any more. A large portion of sexual energy was indistinguishable from nerves, after all. It did not signify unwillingness or a change of heart. Besides, if Roman were lending his boy to another, that meant Roman had had exclusive use of him for several weeks already. The boy was ready for this.

“Take off my shoes,” Remus said, holding out one foot toward the boy.

As the boy complied, easing off Remus’s work shoes, caressing his tired feet, Remus caught a glimpse of a half-hard cock. When he had the opportunity, he stretched a leg forward and nudged the cock with his socked foot. The boy gasped.

“Hush,” he said. “When I want your cries, you’ll know.”

The boy nodded. Remus bumped his cock again, and the boy remained silent. Remus smiled. That was good.

“Now take off the socks,” he ordered.

The boy complied, not gasping at all as Remus fondled the boy’s balls with his bare toes. His bollocks were exquisitely formed, large and yielding and close-shaved. He’d love to put his mouth on them and suck them for hours, but resolved to save that for a real lover, later.

“Kneel up.”

The boy moved into position. Remus studied the boy’s genitals, the hardening cock, the plump balls.

“Show me your arsehole.”

The boy flushed a delightful pink, but turned about and fell forward onto his face. He spread his thighs.

“I can’t see it,” Remus said, deliberately sounding petulant. “I said ‘show me.’”

The boy made a small sound, but again, he complied. He had to put his face on the dais for balance, then reached around behind himself to grasp his buttocks and pull them apart. Remus now had a clear view of the boy’s clean, pinkish arsehole. He waited a long moment, then said, “Now open this package Spice provided for my entertainment.”

Red fingerprints stained his buttocks once the boy released his grip. He moved to Remus’s side and carefully unwrapped the bundle to reveal three instruments.

“Do you know what these are? What they are used for? Shake your head ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

The answer was a hesitant ‘no.’

“Pick one up and I’ll tell you.”

The boy picked up a wooden paddle.

“Surely you know what that is,” Remus said, forcing a laugh. “That’s a paddle. It’s used to punish bad little boys. I know your master well. Tell me. Haven’t you ever been punished before?”

“Yes, Master John,” the boy said softly.

“Do you like being punished?”

A pause, then, “It is… difficult to answer, Master John. I like it sometimes.” A tear shone in the boy’s eye. The embarrassed flush had not quite dissipated.

“Then why did you lie when I asked if you knew what those instruments were used for?”

“I did not lie, Master John.”

Knowing that Roman did not train his boys to not use personal pronouns, he let the use of one slide. Instead, he said, “You told me you didn’t know, then you told me you did. Which is it?”

“I do not know what each of them are used for, and I thought that is what you asked.”

“Ah, boy, I think you are splitting hairs with me. I think you are hoping I shall go easy on you if I believe you to be ignorant or stupid. I shall not be. I can be much crueler than your master, for I have no stake in your well-being.”

This was a calculated lie. The boy should have known, and would come to understand, that Roman would never allow another to go farther with a slave than Roman wanted or would do himself. Also, Remus did have a stake in the boy’s welfare, for he had a stake in Roman’s continued friendship. From the boy’s perspective, however, he would have no knowledge of that. He had never met Remus before and likely, Roman had never mentioned him in concrete terms. Remus was a wild card. This made Remus both more dangerous and more attractive to the boy, and if he ended up frightened of Remus, it made his own master seem that much more comforting and protective.

Remus briefly wondered if Roman wanted Remus to scare the boy, but decided if it were so, that Roman would have told him so previously. No, this had to be a scene designed to get the boy used to a different master.

The boy was shaking his head. “No, Master John. I must have misunderstood the question.”

Of course, you did, Remus thought. It was designed to be a trap and to put you in this very position of guaranteed failure.

“Apparently. Give me the paddle, then. For your ‘misunderstanding,’ I shall correct you. Get yourself across my lap. Now!”

The boy gulped, handed Remus the paddle and struggled to get himself into proper position. Remus guided the boy into an inverted V shape, his buttocks pointing at the ceiling and his cock hanging between Remus’s thighs. Remus lifted the paddle and brought it down directly across the boy’s proffered buttocks. The boy yelped, his body jerked, the paddle made a loud _crack!_ and the pale skin blushed pink.

Remus paddled him again, steadying the boy with a hand on the center of his back.

And again, and the buttocks flushed a deeper red.

And again, and the boy moaned, a little fearfully.

And again, and Remus adjusted his legs, purposefully putting pressure on the boy’s penis.

And again, this time rubbing the paddle across the inflamed flesh.

Remus pushed the boy off his thighs to collapse at his feet on the floor. He tossed the paddle onto the dais. “Now do you understand the purpose of a paddle?”

The boy nodded. “Yes, sir.” His hands kept straying to his backside, as if he knew he was not allowed to rub his abused parts, but desperately wanted to anyway.

“Pick up another instrument.”

The boy got onto his knees once more and crawled to the opened bundle. He picked up a metal object, a block stuck on the end of a long, thick handle. On one side of the block was formed short, dull spikes.

“That, my pretty boy, is a meat tenderizer. Haven’t you ever seen your mother use one on steak?”

The boy shook his head.

Remus glanced up at Roman. He had grown accustomed to the strong lighting and could mostly see the other man’s shape and form. If he were about to tread into dangerous waters, if the boy was sensitive about his mother, for example, or if the woman were dead, Roman would certainly be signaling him to stop this line of questioning. There was no such indication.

“No matter,” Remus said. “You’re about to become fully aware of its best use. Hand it to me and get across my lap once more.”

Mallet in hand, boy across lap, Remus brought the dull metal nubs down across the boy’s buttocks in sharp, quick motions. Each slap of metal against already-sensitized flesh made the boy squirm, up and down and side to side, his cock driving between Remus’s thighs, growing sticky even as the boy panted and wept. The rhythm, the pounding, the boy’s increasingly violent movements, the heated arousal he sensed from the others in the room, increased his own enjoyment. He felt his cock swell, bulging in his jeans. Each jump of the boy’s hips rubbed up against his cock. It was a delicious form of frottage.

If he continued, he would not quite reach orgasm. The denim was just too thick for a really good frot session. Remus settled for dragging the dull spikes in circular patterns over the reddened flesh and admiring the swirling design that remained only for an instant as the blood flushed the surface.

The blood, the thin, breakable flesh, strongly called to Remus this close to the full moon. He knew the Muggles had no idea what he really was, but they must have suspected something was different about him. Over the last two years or so especially, they had always arranged for him to have a little _sport_ the night before the full moon. It was entirely possible they figured him to be some sort of vampire-enthusiast. No matter. They allowed him to safely play with the idea of blood and predator and prey and that was often enough to keep his wolf-self satisfied for a time.

Finishing with the tenderizer, Remus tossed that and the boy aside as before.

“Do you know what the last object is used for?”

The boy got onto his hands and knees and reluctantly nodded.

“Another lie, hm?”

Humiliation and shame burned in the boy’s face and chest, but he did not answer.

“Give it to me.”

The boy picked it up in his hands.

“Not like that. Use your mouth.”

His eyes widened, he looked about ready to balk, but he lowered his head to the object and picked it up with his teeth. He turned to Remus.

Remus smiled. “You look so much like a dog, right now, with that dildo in your mouth. Sit up and beg. Go on,” he urged. “Sit up like a dog.” He gave a sharp whistle, as one would to summon a collie, and snapped his fingers above the boy’s head.

The boy moved slowly, uncertainly, but always with that humiliated flush, into proper kneeling position. Then he folded his hands as if in prayer, stretched his chin up and out, and bobbed his hands in the air.

“Good boy!” Remus praised him, leaning forward to smooth a hand over the boy’s head and shoulder. He continued to pet him and rub the boy’s belly, all as if he were indeed a dog. Remus caught a glimpse of his audience; they were smiling and nodding. Roman looked particularly intrigued.

“Give it here,” Remus said, holding out his hand in front of the boy’s mouth. The boy dropped the dildo with a grateful expression. Remus smiled evilly and tossed the dildo off into the darkness, away from Vlad, Roman and Spice.

“Fetch!”

The boy gulped and stared at Remus, his eyes wide and disbelieving.

“Go on, now. Fetch!”

The boy glanced toward his master.

“Fetch, boy! Or I’ll have to teach you a lesson in obedience.”

That did it. The boy scampered off the dais into the darkness. It took him a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but Remus kept calling out encouragement.

“Good boy! Come on, boy! Fetch it. Go get it. You can do it!”

Finally, the boy retrieved the dildo.

Remus took it from him and tossed it toward Roman.

“Come on, boy! Get it! Get it! You can do it!”

He ended up ‘playing fetch’ with the boy for another dozen or so throws. By the end, the boy was drenched with sweat, panting with exhaustion, and had begun to bark in response to Remus’s praise.

“That’s a good boy,” Remus said at the end of the exercise. He vigorously rubbed the boy’s stomach at every opportunity, knowing the repetition, the contact and the role play was working in concert to stimulate the boy’s erotic imagination. The proof was in the hard, leaking cock.

Remus dropped the dildo onto the dais where it rested against one leg of the stool. He looked down at the boy.

“You want a treat, boy? Puppy want a treat?”

The boy sat up and yipped.

Remus unzipped his pants. His own hard prick popped out.

“Come on, boy!” he urged, sitting down on the stool. He patted his thigh encouragingly, but the boy needed no prompting. He immediately swallowed Remus’s cock to the hilt and began to suck. Remus choked down his words of fervent praise. This was the most difficult portion of any scene, he found. Remaining remote and seemingly unaffected by sexual activity, which made the sub work harder for the orgasmic reward, went against his innate need to share his pleasurable feelings, his appreciation and his regard for his partner. The boy was not a ‘partner’, though, so Remus needed to remain as quiet as possible.

After a great deal of wet sucking, Remus was ready to come. Knowing how particular Roman was about who came in his slaves’ arse and when, he did not pull out and initiate intercourse. Instead, he pet the boy’s hair, murmured softly, “Good boy. Goood boy. That’s it,” closed his eyes, reminded himself the entire scene was entirely consensual, flashed on a long-forgotten memory of a skinny boy with dark hair and eyes and a petulant expression, and came in a flood.

“Good boy,” he said again, allowing the boy to lick off any remaining drops of fluid. “Good boy.”


	27. The Love You Make

“That was McGonagall’s gift for my twenty-seventh birthday,” Severus said, “and I’ve never been able to stand the taste of whiskey since.”

Remus laughed. “I’m like that with ham. Threw up a ham sandwich once and now I can’t abide it.”

The two men were walking back from an evening in Hogsmeade. Severus had tickets to a lecture series and Remus consented to attending with him, on the condition they have dinner first, making it their second official date. Their chosen subject of conversation stemmed from an offhand comment Severus had made about Umbridge, the current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and fulltime Ministry stooge. ‘I have nothing against cats or lace doilies _per se_ , you understand,’ Severus had said, ‘but after walking just once into that _woman’s_ office was enough to make me wish I could projectile vomit.’

Nausea and vomiting were not quite conducive to goodnight kisses at the door, so when they reached the school proper, Severus suggested that Remus come inside. “You could floo from there,” he offered. “It’s just as far from here to my rooms as it is from here to the Apparation limit.”

It wasn’t quite that close, but Remus recognized an opening when he saw one. “I’d love to,” he said with a grin.

They entered the school and soon narrowly avoided being caught out by Umbridge herself; they had to duck into an unused classroom and cast illusion charms to disguise themselves as statues when she walked by. Severus almost destroyed his illusion by shuddering, but still Umbridge had no idea they were there at all. Once the toad-faced woman had turned down a different corridor, they broke the charms and nearly ran the rest of the way.

“Hurry! Inside,” Severus urged, unlocking and opening his door wide. Remus raced through and Severus almost slammed the door, he closed it so fast. They looked at each other and began to laugh, Severus covering his mouth with a hand.

“That was fun,” Remus said with a huge grin. “Almost like being a student again and hiding from Filch.” He pulled off his outer robe and draped it across a wingback chair. The stated intention to floo back to Grimmauld Place was revealed to be a pretense.

Severus nodded, undoing his own outer robe, then said sadly, “Filch is on _her_ side.”

“Why? I thought he was loyal to Dumbledore.”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Either it’s because she flatters him by not realizing he’s a Squib, or he believes her when she says she’s going to reinstitute corporal punishment.” He summoned Remus’s robe and placed both on the hooks by the door. “Which she very well may. I have it on good authority she has some kind of a Punishment Quill for her detentions. Several students have complained and I’ve had to give out so much salve…” He shook his head, concerned for the students’ welfare, though he’d trained himself never to show it.

Remus sighed. “Dumbledore can’t let this go on much longer.”

“I agree. However, things have to play out as they will, if only to prove Dumbledore’s point about school sovereignty and keeping the Ministry off our backs.”

“Enough shop talk. Why don’t you come over here and kiss me? I’ve only been thinking about it all night.”

Severus felt himself flush at Remus’s flirtation. He turned away to hide his uncontrollable smile. “So, you’ve been thinking of kissing me?”

Remus nodded.

“What a coincidence.”

“Who cares what it is? Why don’t you just get over here and put us both out of our misery, hm?”

Feeling slightly foolish, but not knowing quite what else to do, he obeyed. Remus was standing in the middle of the room, his arms at his sides, his expression eager and rapt as Severus moved toward him. When he was within arm’s length, Remus gave up being patient. He grabbed Severus’s upper arms and pulled him into a strong embrace, their faces ending up scant centimeters apart.

“That’s better,” Remus breathed, his eyes tracing every detail of Severus’s surprisingly colored eyes (they weren’t black at all, but a molten chocolate brown), his nose delighting in Severus’s unique personal scent, his arms reveling in the warmth and feel of the slender body, his mouth salivating with the temptation to lick his skin. He deliberately pressed his burgeoning arousal against Severus’s hip, letting the man know he had every intention of following through this time.

It was Severus who broke the spell. After a seemingly eternal moment of staring into each other’s eyes, it was the slightly taller, slightly less confident man who moved forward first, blending their lips in a soft, perfect kiss. Even so, it was Remus who teased Severus’s lips apart, and Remus who thrust his tongue into Severus’s mouth, and Remus who pressed himself even harder against Severus’s hips.

It was Severus who groaned, though, low in his throat. And it was Severus who broke away first to say, “Do you think this time we might actually make it to the bedroom?”

Remus rewarded Severus’s initiative with another open-mouthed kiss. “I’m counting on it,” he breathed. “You won’t be able to stand once I’m through with you.” He felt Severus shiver. He wrapped his arms tighter around his once-and-future lover’s body and let his hands slide up and then down to cup the other man’s perfectly sized arse. He grinned. “Ready?”

Severus nodded. He glanced around at his sitting room, then pulled back from Remus, withdrawing his wand to cast a few spells. He locked the outer door and then doused all but one candle to light the room.

“This way then,” he said. Remus grabbed his elbow as he passed, then let his hand slide down the arm until their fingers entwined. They held hands as they walked into Severus’s bedroom.

~~

He’d never seen Severus’s bedroom before. He did have the idea, got from somewhere or other, that the man slept either on a king-sized, black satin-sheeted monstrosity of a bed complete with candelabra above on the walls and manacles on the headboard, or possessed a rather ascetic, single-mattress, wooden-slat camp bed covered over with threadbare blanket and cardboard-thin pillow. Oh, yes – and a perpetually cold draft.

It was neither extreme.

Instead, it was a normal sort of room, the sort that every Hogwarts professor possessed, but with a few luxuries of the sort only the Heads of House were granted. Severus had a private sitting area, for example, warmed with a small fireplace and boasting enclosed bookshelves. When he had been teaching DADA, Remus had been assigned to a more standard room. True, he’d had a window, but he would have considered murdering someone for more shelf space.

But there were more intriguing things to look at than Severus’s ivory and green bedroom with its masculine lines and understated elegance. There was Severus, for example, adorably nervous, his hands fluttering from the buttons on his coat to the cuffs at his wrists.

“Relax,” he said, running a hand quickly up to the other man’s shoulder. “Did you want to get a drink or something?”

“N-no,” Severus replied, still staring wide-eyed at some middle distance. “Did you?”

“I’m fine.” He moved back into Severus’s personal space.

“I should turn the lights down –“

“I like them on.”

“Oh. I’ll… leave them, then.”

“But if you like,” Remus countered, “you can douse some of them. Whatever makes you more comfortable. You’re so nervous, Severus! Relax. I won’t bite you.”

“That is not what I am concerned about,” Severus said quickly.

“Tell me what concerns you, then,” Remus said with a smile. “Since you brought it up.”

“I am… not concerned about anything.”

“Then be quiet.” Remus eased any sting from the mild rebuke with another kiss. In moments, their arms slipped about each other, Severus holding firm to Remus’s back and Remus caressing the twin swells of Severus’s buttocks. As their body heat rose, Remus could scent a hint of woodsy cologne. He slid his open mouth along Severus’s jaw to his throat and nuzzled there, drawing the scent into his nose, tasting it on his tongue.

“You smell so good,” he whispered, his voice husky.

“It’s just… cologne,” Severus said, the word breaking on a soft moan.

“I don’t care,” Remus replied. “Just don’t run out of it any time soon.” He renewed his oral attack on Severus’s mouth, holding the man’s head now with both hands thrust thickly into his soft hair. He felt the wolf rise inside him and the urge to devour the man whole grew strong. He gripped Severus tighter and ground his hips against the man’s arousal. He heard a desperate, whimpering, wordless plea.

“Remus, stop – slow down, please!” Severus pulled away from Remus’s grasp to gasp for breath.

“Sorry, sorry, love,” Remus said, his hands smoothing back his hair, his focus still on Severus’s mouth, his intent undiminished.

Severus slid his hands over Remus’s hair, stroking the untidy length. He drew a finger along the other man’s cheek, then followed the path with a few quick kisses.

“Come to bed,” Severus whispered. “Come to bed with me.”

A part of Remus startled at the unashamed invitation. Where had this confident Severus come from? But then he looked into Severus’s eyes and saw a flickering of the old insecurity and he understood. Severus was trying to be brave, confident, strong in this act, though his fear had not quite left him. That was all right. Remus had every intention of helping the man realize his worth and learn to value it properly. The ‘trick’ he’d pulled their first date had finally paid off. Severus was ready for the next step, because he had decided to be.

In reply, Remus nodded. He stepped out of Severus’s way, allowing the other man to take the lead physically as well. He watched avidly as Severus slipped off his coat, leaving him in shirtsleeves and slacks, but when the man went to unbutton his shirt, Remus stepped forward.

“Let me,” he said. “I shall enjoy undressing you.”

“If you insist,” Severus said quietly. He stood still as Remus first unbuttoned his shirt all the way down and untucked the tails, all without breaking eye contact with him. Then Remus undid each buttoned cuff and finally, slowly, he drew the fabric across Severus’s wide shoulders and that’s when he stopped looking at Severus’s eyes. That’s when Remus began memorizing Severus’s body.

The long lines, the smooth, pale, almost hairless skin, the rangy muscles – they were all revealed to him inch by tantalizing inch. Remus wanted to lick every square centimeter of it, then he saw the man’s nipples. He _needed_ to suckle those. He settled for flicking them with his thumbs and when Severus jumped a bit, he grinned.

The shirt fell to the floor.

Remus focused his attention on the slacks.

Severus was definitely narrow-hipped, but Remus didn’t much mind. He figured it would be easier to wrap his legs around the man’s waist that way. Once the trousers were unbuttoned, they were relatively easy to let slip to pool at Severus’s ankles. All that remained of Severus’s modesty were a pair of white underpants and his socks and shoes. Those were going to be a little awkward to get rid of now, Remus realized. He maybe should have started there.

Smiling at his thought and eager to share his little joke, Remus glanced up at Severus’s face. What he saw there made his humor flee. Severus’s expression was shuttered, withdrawn, tense. His shoulders looked tight, his muscles corded. He was breathing fast and his jaw was clenched. His eyes were fixed on some point past him.

Remus cupped Severus’s cheek with his palm, drawing the man’s attention back to him. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Talk to me.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Severus replied. He smiled; it was obviously forced.

If he wasn’t going to be helpful, then Remus was just going to have to figure it out himself. He knew Severus was shy; that had to be it, although why he should be, Remus had no idea. Severus was slender, pale, hairless and almost - _almost -_ feminine, but the wide shoulders, the endearing Adam’s apple, and the definite lack of softness prevented him from earning that appellation. He was decidedly a man; that bulge in his pants proved it, if nothing else.

Perhaps a few compliments would help? “You look so good,” Remus said, drawing his hand down Severus’s throat to his chest. “Pale and perfect.”

But Severus’s expression did not change.

Remus decided words maybe weren’t going to be much use, so he slid both hands across Severus’s chest. He let his short nails scratch lightly over the skin. He saw a patch of goose-bumps spring up and he leaned even closer and puffed some warm air over the area. Severus’s reaction was subtle, but it occurred: a short intake of breath.

Closing his eyes, Remus gave in to his first instinct upon seeing Severus’s naked torso. He began to lick it. First, a broad, flat-tongued swath up the sternum. Then a teasing lick along the under-curve of one pectoral. His tongue flicked at the left nipple; it puckered. He let his mouth close over it, sucking gently. To his immense surprise, a hand touched the back of his head – incredibly gentle and just once. Remus could not help but smile. He kept his mouth on the nipple as his hands slid down Severus’s waist to the elastic band keeping his underpants in place. He let his fingers slip between the elastic and the skin and gently tugged. He did not watch the soft cotton fall to rest on the slacks, but he did let his hands fully and firmly grasp each globe of Severus’s curving arse.

Severus sealed his mouth even tighter, unwilling to let a single moan, whimper or plea escape. He knew if even one word got out, then the spell Remus was casting upon him would end. Even one word would drag the man back from whatever world he was currently inhabiting and force him to be in this one. In that other world, Remus was slowly worshiping the body of a god. A beautiful god. The god of love and desire and elegance. That god would be a worthy partner to this man. That god would be… well, he would not be Severus Snape.

And if he broke that spell, Remus would see him for what he was: thin, bony, colorless. And Remus would make an excuse and leave. Or he’d push him face down on the bed, shag him, and then leave. He wouldn’t... keep… his mouth… sucking him… right there…

Did he dare touch Remus again? He had suggested moving to the bed, but then Remus had insisted on undressing him. He’d suspected that would be a mistake. It was. They weren’t any closer to the mattress than they were before.

And then Remus had slipped his underwear off -! He’d felt himself grow almost immediately and painfully erect. He’d wanted to cover himself but felt trapped. If he moved his hands to his groin, that would attract Remus’s attention more than if he left things alone. Hide his deformities in plain sight. That was a good plan.

He looked down at Remus. There was that same scarred shoulder. When he had kissed it before, Remus had reacted most positively. He should do it again. He leaned forward, but that movement pulled his nipple from Remus’s mouth. He half expected Remus to scold him or something, and he froze in indecision, go on or go back? Then Remus dropped to his knees - _his knees!_ \- in front of him.

Remus was on his knees! To him! His mouth was just at the perfect level. To his deformity. Would he-? What would he -?

And there it was, Remus sighed with satisfaction. Severus’s impertinent prick and those beautiful bollocks. They were exactly as he remembered them, but better. Large and full, hanging low and bulging between the thighs, the pillows of flesh called to him. He answered that call.

“Hello, my beauties,” he whispered. “How I have missed you!” He stroked them gently with one forefinger before swiping his tongue across the front swell. He nuzzled his nose against the base of Severus’s cock, inhaling deeply of that unique smell he had fallen in love with all those months ago.

“Mmmmm… so entrancing… so mesmerizing… so perfect,” he cooed, licking and petting the pouch of flesh. “I am going to take such good care of you boys,” he promised. “You’re going to be so spoiled. What would you like first, hm? A tongue bath? Perhaps some scented oil? Would that please you?” He pushed his nose directly into the scrotum.

Severus stood perfectly still. He was almost too afraid to move. What on earth was Remus saying? He had honestly thought that Remus had been having him on, before. That he hadn’t actually spent most of his time that first evening all those months ago nuzzling and petting and pampering his… his _hideously oversized, deformed bollocks_! And _talking_ to them? And pretending they were talking _back_? Was this a result of Wolfsbane poisoning, perhaps? Or a side-effect of lycanthropy? Or was this final proof that Remus Lupin had simply gone round the twist?

In any event, he was too afraid to move. Who knew how Remus would react? Maybe he’d get possessive and demanding. Maybe he’d cease the behavior forever? He didn’t really like either option. The nuzzling was a bit… addictive. It was nice. He cautiously looked down to see Remus still whispering and kissing and licking his scrotum. His prick had no shame. It was stiff as a flagpole, but Remus was paying it no attention. Still, the slightly sticky tip had brushed through Remus’s hair, and strands were clinging to it, drawing along it, and that sensation was rather… interesting. And maybe Remus really didn’t mind about the size.

But he had to move. His feet started to protest at being kept in their shoes when the rest of his body was naked.

“Er, Remus,” he said. “Can’t we, um..?”

With obvious reluctance, Remus broke off the deep communion he was enjoying with Severus’s bollocks. “Yes, of course,” he said, a bit dreamily. “I’ll help you get off your boots.”

With only a single stumble, they managed to remove Severus’s shoes and socks. Severus then moved to sit on his hands on the bed (the better to keep from covering himself) while Remus stripped off his own clothes. He allowed himself a wistful thought that one day, he might have the courage to undress Remus, then he told himself sternly that he would. Next time. Definitely.

Once he was naked, Severus tried to get as good a look at the nude werewolf as possible, but Remus had jumped onto the bed and was pulling him down against the pillows before he really had a chance. They were kissing again, Remus’s fingers were touching his nipples again, and their legs were entwining again and it was silky sexy sweetness.

They privately reveled in the sensation of hairy chest against hairless, of muscled legs against more slender thighs. Their mouths opened to each other, lips and tongues and a hint of brandy and their hands explored freely. The woodsy scent rose into the air, mixing with the smell of candle wax and flame. Remus groaned, nuzzled Severus’s neck and licked along his collarbone.

When Remus moved on top of him, Severus easily spread his thighs to accommodate the other, stronger man. Their cocks slid against each other, heated sabers not easily arranged in comfort. Remus shoved a hand between their bodies and adjusted them both; his own cock nestled tightly against Severus’s scrotum. Remus grinned happily.

“I must ask,” Severus said, hoping against hope the words wouldn’t spoil everything. “What is this fascination with my balls?”

Remus froze.

Immediately, Severus tensed. “I did not mean to offend or-or to –“

Remus’s body began to shake in tiny, violent movements.

“What is it? What are you – are you laughing at me?” It was worse than he thought it could be. It was a joke. It was a bloody _prank!_ Of course, it was. No one could ever be that fascinated by his gigantic scrotum except to point at it and laugh. How well he remembered the communal student showers. Too well.

“Oh, Severus,” Remus confessed with a laugh. “I’m embarrassed to say.”

“Go on,” he gritted out. He’d heard it all before. _What’s the matter, Severus? Cast an enlargement charm on your prick and miss?_

Remus forced his arms up and around Severus’s neck, hugging him close. “I just really really like your balls,” he said. “A lot. You have no idea just how much.”

“You can not be serious.”

“But I am.” Remus pulled back and looked at Severus. “I swear to you, I am. I’ve always been attracted to bollocks,” he said. “The bigger, the better, in my opinion, and yours is, well…”

“Elephantine,” Severus supplied.

“Mmm,” Remus said, shaking his head. “That implies they’re grotesque and they’re not. They’re perfect.” He moved his hips, thrusting his cock between Severus’s bollocks and his inner thigh. Remus’s voice dropped into a lower register. “And they feel… so… good… against… my cock.”

Hearing Remus say ‘cock’ set a flame in Severus’s own. “I’m sorry,” he said on a gasp. “Against your what?”

Remus frowned, not understanding. “Your cock,” he repeated, thrusting again. “You know. Your penis. Your Johnson. Your –“

But as those words didn’t tantalize Severus’s imagination, he shook his head, a tiny smile playing on his lips. “You had it right the first time,” he said. He raised his eyebrows as he hinted, “What you called it first..?”

Remus blinked. “Your cock?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He felt safe to admit it now. After all, if Remus could confess a fascination with his bulky, hard-to-conceal bollocks, then he could admit to liking to hear dirty talk. Right?

A slow, sly smile spread across Remus’s face. He practically breathed the word in Severus’s face. “Cock.”

Severus returned the smile. He thrust upwards with his hips as if to say, ‘bollocks.’

Remus couldn’t help but laugh. Severus couldn’t help but join in. Together, they rolled onto their sides and renewed their mutual exploration.

Hours or minutes later, their amusement had joined with their passion for each other and they found themselves, Severus’s legs wrapped tight around Remus’s waist, fingers digging into Remus’s back, mouth sealed to Remus’s sensitive shoulder, but Remus’s cock cradled not in Severus’s arse, but next to his scrotum. Severus’s cock was weeping wet, raw and hard, and sliding between their abdomens. Their bodies were in perfect synchronization, save that they were not exactly where they wanted to be doing exactly what they wanted to do.

One of them had to give, and as Severus had not yet developed the courage to take the lead, it was left up to Remus to do the honors. In his preparation for that evening, however, he had planned for Severus to top. To that end, he had cleansed himself the Muggle way. He imagined that Severus might not have taken the Wizarding precautionary equivalent.

Nevertheless, questions had to be asked and readiness assessed. Gasping for breath, Remus put his lips to his lover’s ear and asked huskily, “Top or bottom?”

Severus’s equally romantic and coherent reply was, “Hunh?”

Remus forced his libido to ratchet a notch back. “Did you want to top or were you prepared to bottom?”

“Oh.” Severus felt a small wave of embarrassment, as he always did when discussing or contemplating these matters. His previous two partners had always insisted that Severus be prepared; he’d done the same in anticipation of this evening.

“I’m fine either way,” he said.

That helped answer Remus’s real question not at all.

“What did you _want_ to do?”

While Severus had been wondering what it would be like to top Remus, and gods willing he’d have that opportunity some day, he had enjoyed being topped enough the first time by the man that he could stand to do it again, especially with Remus behaving so much like a… like a lover. Besides, the way Severus was feeling the moment, it was more likely that Remus would be able to keep his mind focused on the essentials. Severus figured he’d end up just shoving himself inside Remus and to hang with the side-effects of casual brutality.

So he told Remus, “You can top.”

Remus groaned inwardly. He hadn’t wanted to, because now he’d have to think and be responsible instead of just give over to Severus’s whims. But he had offered a choice and Severus had given him an answer. He had to follow through on it; that was only fair. But one day soon, he’d bottom to Severus and he’d get to feel those glorious bollocks slapping against his arse, and – enough with that!

Remus pulled back. “Where’s the lube?”

“Fresh… jar on the… table-thing over that way,” Severus panted, unable to either catch his breath or adequately utilize his vocabulary. His hands kept roaming across Remus’s chest and abdomen, seemingly following the dictates of their own desires. Severus didn’t mind; it was almost hypnotic to trace the lines of muscle and the pattern of hair growth on his lover’s body, particularly as that body stretched to one side and then knelt up between his thighs.

The contents in the jar were fresh, as promised. Remus scooped out a generous dollop and slid it slowly along Severus’s cock, over the plump, precocious balls, to the tender spot just behind, to the entrance to his body which he gently circled. As he did this, Severus spread his thighs and tilted his hips up, allowing and encouraging complete access.

Remus slipped a finger inside Severus. He carefully watched his lover, checking his reactions. Severus had turned his face away, his eyes shut tight. Uncertain if this were a normal reaction for the man or not, Remus scooped out another dollop and added another penetrative finger. He shifted on the mattress to gain better access and with his forearms, he encouraged his lover’s thighs to spread even farther apart.

When he got to the third finger, he knew something was probably wrong with Severus’s behavior. His face was still turned away, his eyes tight and his jaw tense as if in some kind of pain, but his body was loose and open. Relaxed.

“Is this all right?” he asked. “Does this hurt?”

“Feels… good,” Severus replied, his eyes still clenched tight. “Don’t stop.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not hurting me. Go on. I want it. I want – you.”

“I want you, too.” Somewhat relieved, Remus repositioned himself between Severus’s thighs and placed his cock at the entrance to his body. He braced himself on the mattress with the other hand, tucking it just underneath Severus’s ribcage. “Look at me,” he whispered. “I want to see you when I take you.”

Severus shook his head against the pillow.

“Come on,” Remus said, getting a little impatient as he was delaying his own gratification. “Let me see you.”

And then, as if torn from his throat, Severus told him. “You should imagine someone handsome.”

Stunned, it was all Remus could do not to react the way he wanted to – with shouts and screams and maybe throwing something across the room – but not because he would be angry with Severus! Because he wanted to hurt the people who had let Severus believe that no one wanted to see his face, not even when they were making love to him.

But then, that was the key, wasn’t it? No one had ever really made love to him. They had fucked him, raped him, used him, but never made love. Remus wanted to make love. For that, he wanted – no, he demanded – no again. He _desired_ eye contact.

“I need to see you,” Remus said, forcing his tones to remain normal. “I want to see you. I like your face. I think it’s more than handsome. To me, you’re beautiful.”

While he let Severus think it over, Remus returned to moving his three fingers inside and out of Severus’s body, gently reminding him of what he could be enjoying, if he only turned his face and opened his eyes. He sat up a bit so he could stroke his lover’s stomach with his free hand, then trailed his fingers inexorably down to fondle his half-hard cock and those perfect balls.

“Your whole body is beautiful,” Remus said, more to himself than Severus. “Your bollocks are one thing. You must know I am enraptured by them. Your cock is a good thickness. It’ll feel heavenly sliding inside me, I’m sure of that. Next time, you’re going to top me. I also like how you don’t have much body hair. I have a lot and I like the contrast between us. It makes you seem younger than me, and that is such a turn-on. It’s kind of naughty, if you think about it.” He grinned. “And your eyes, such a surprise –“ He stopped short, realizing Severus’s eyes were open and shining and looking directly at him.

Remus felt ten feet tall.

He leaned forward, adjusting his cock once more, setting the tip against Severus’s arsehole. He pressed firmly forward. Severus gasped.

Two inches were inside.

“That’s it. That’s it.”

He bent to his task, his hair falling in his face. Severus’s shaking hands rose up to cup his cheeks and smooth the lines across his forehead.

Three inches.

Severus’s legs shifted –

Four inches.

Severus’s hips lifted –

Five inches.

Severus’s legs wrapped slowly around Remus’s hips. His hands held tight to his biceps. He set his jaw and tugged with his thighs.

Six inches.

Remus pulled out a few inches, then pushed back in. He did it a second, then a third time.

Seven inches.

Severus gasped. His head pushed back against the pillow. “Oh, please,” he whispered. “I want all of you.” Remus grunted in reply.

Eight inches. And a little more.

He was all the way inside. Buried to the root. His balls brushed against Severus’s arse. Severus’s balls cushioned his pubic bone. They were connected, joined, united. With Severus’s hands now on Remus’s shoulders, Remus’s fingers tucked slightly beneath Severus’s back, legs wrapped around hips, thighs up close to buttocks, eyes locked with each other, they formed their own, unique human creature, perfect in every detail.

And then they began to move.

Like an orchestra playing in perfect harmony a song it has heard collectively only once and from a great distance, that was the miracle for Severus. He’d come close twice before, but never had he experienced such a sense of completion, of welcome, of _home_.

Like finding the last tiny, crucial piece of a 5,000 piece jigsaw puzzle, the one that revealed the picture itself, that was the revelation for Remus. He’d come close once before when he was very young, but never had he experienced such a sense of completion, of welcome, of _sanctuary_.

He was now one being living in two bodies and his greatest desire was to be united once more forever.

But he said not a word about it.

The other seemed to _know_ , and that was enough to be going on with. He had experienced _this_ just once and yes, that could be enough.

And then it was more and he was united and what he felt shuddering in one heart he felt shuddering in the other and it was exactly the same glory at the same perfect time and it was _so good_ and there was God and there was Truth and there was Peace.

And the one body slipped back into two and he felt the aching loss, but that was soon comforted by the knowledge that _it_ had happened, _he_ had been created, and God and Truth and Peace were not the only witnesses present.

Love surrounded them all.


	28. Mad Dogs and Englishmen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: contains mild, but consensual, bestiality.

Twenty-eight days after his first Change after the death of the pack-mate, Remus began his second. As usual, the pain of the transformation masked his simultaneous decreasing awareness of his surroundings. As a wolf, his lupine senses filtered his human impressions of his environment, either by limitation or expansion. His mental processes changed as well. He was no longer quite capable of higher reasoning. Instead, he became rather like a highly intelligent dog, save that he could force his brain to think rationally if he pushed hard enough. It was all so much easier since the Wolfsbane formula. Had he the Wolfsbane Potion back when he was a teenager, perhaps there might not have been that litter of ugly-cute mixed-breed puppies running free around Hogsmeade. Rumor had it, the puppies were born feral and couldn’t be tamed. He wondered sometimes if descendants of that same litter still patrolled the dark trees?

This particular summer had been difficult for the wolf. He had lost his pack-mate and running companion… somewhere. When Changed, he couldn’t quite remember the details. He had spent the last Change in mourning. This Change, however, was in altogether different circumstances. He was not in the old house with the dark stench, he was in a much cozier set of rooms somewhere underground. Here, there were the usual scents, liquor, books, wood, furniture, but overpowering them all, there was the smell that attracted him most. He was here. The Mate.

After he Changed, he spent several important minutes sniffing out each exit from the room, each corner, and then he inspected his water dish. He lapped thirstily, then licked his snout clean. The Mate approached and set down a plateful of fragrant meat. Ah – fresh-killed rabbit! Hunger drove him to devour the creature’s innards. The intestines were particularly tasty. It could only have been improved if he had hunted the animal himself. But then, the Mate had provided him food. That was just as good. He barked his appreciation.

_Thank you!_

The Mate sat on a chair by the fire. He had something long and flat and paper-smelling on his lap. He also smelled liquor, ink and the faint odor of young people. Recently, there were lemon sherbets in this room, but they were apparently all gone. He tried to entertain himself by batting a throw pillow across the floor, but the Mate asked him to stop. The Mate spoke to him! The pillow was important, special. He left it alone.

Mate’s arm hung over one side of the chair at a useful height. He walked over and then under the dangling fingers, pretending the Mate was scratching his back. He nearly whimpered with delight when the Mate began actively scratching his shoulders, his neck, and then behind his ears. He couldn’t help it. He thumped his tail against the side of the chair.

He heard a low sound, like a laugh. He turned to look at the Mate. He smelled warm amusement. He yipped.

_What’s so funny?_

“Nice wolf.”

_Better._

He moved to sit at the Mate’s feet, rubbing his back and the side of his body against the Mate’s legs. Why wouldn’t the Mate play with him? Why didn’t the Mate transform so they could go running through the trees?

No, this was the Mate and the Mate was unable to do that.

The Mate was dull.

No, not dull. There was a great deal of fun to be had with the Mate, when he was a man, too. The Mate satisfied the man and the man satisfied the Mate. It was Good and it was Right. It was How It Should Be.

He wondered, could he have fun with the Mate, too? 

Why not?

_Let’s mate._

“Hush.”

_No! I want to mate!_

“Remus! I said ‘hush’. I’m trying to read.”

_No! Not right. Must mate!_

Perhaps the Mate needed a little encouragement. He shoved his nose under the flat paper-thing, aiming for the Mate’s lap. The Mate lifted the flat thing into the air. That was perfect; it left the Mate’s fragrant groin unprotected.

_That’s it…_

“What are you –?”

There was a sharp smack as something hit the floor beside him. He involuntarily danced his back half out of the way, but he was in no real danger of injury. He needed to get still closer to the Mate, but cloth blocked his progress. It was preventing him from adequately sniffing his Mate’s scent! From encouraging his Mate to play! Well, he knew how to get rid of such obstacles. He bared his teeth and -

“What do you think you are doing?”

The Mate shoved him away.

_No! Must mate! Must mate now!_

The Mate huffed. The Mate stared at him. He stared back. Why couldn’t the Mate behave? He stepped closer. The Mate held up a pale hand, so he licked it, long and slow.

It was delicious. The Mate in all his glory was revealed to him with each lick. He had eaten a roast beef sandwich with mayonnaise, tomatoes and lettuce. He had washed his hands in vanilla and as he realized this, a stray thought darted across his brain: the Mate worked on the poison potion today; the vanilla is to mask the smell.

The Mate was so loving and kind!

He pushed his way past the hand and dove again for the Mate’s crotch. He needed to reward the Mate’s kindness. His paws were incapable of proper gratitude, but he could still lick. However, the cloth covering was still there.

_Get it off now!_

“Merlin, Remus! If you hate my trousers that much, why do you wait until you can’t speak to tell me so?”

_I don’t understand. Oh! Good. Faster! Now!_

The Mate was taking the cloth off his legs. More delicious scents wafted to him. Soap and water and sweat. The thin, pale cloth slipped off, too, and as that sailed through the air, he couldn’t help but follow it with his eyes, salivating at the thought of devouring it properly. What a treat that would be! The Mate sat back down. Even more wonderful! His groin was now completely unprotected. He lunged toward the Mate’s lap, throwing his body into position. His paws easily fit on either side of the Mate’s hips; the Mate’s thighs spread slightly to fit his thick body between them. He braced himself on his haunches and craned his neck to see it: the Mate’s prick.

The tip was darker than the rest of him and getting hotter. It smelled delicious, too – no. That smell was from the bollocks underneath. Those delicious, wonderful, tasty, tempting bollocks! He gave up trying to see any part of it and just let his tongue wash those precious balls clean. His nose bumped against the shaft of Mate’s flesh-stick; it was almost too hot against his properly cold nose. He heard the Mate whine and try to pull away, but there was no place for the Mate to go and even if there were, he was not about to let the Mate escape.

“Remus, stop that at once!” The Mate grabbed hold of his jowls and pushed at his head.

_Let go of me!_

He snipped at the Mate’s fingers. He would never actually injure the Mate. He had no desire whatsoever to do that. But the Mate was interfering with him giving the Mate pleasure and that was not allowed! No, he knew that above all else: the Mate deserved pleasure whenever, wherever and however possible.

“Relax, Remus. Nice wolf.”

He happily returned to his licking. The bollocks were smooth and well-shaved. Only the faintest hint of regrowth tickled his tongue. He ignored it and focused on slathering his tongue all the way around the pouch as far as possible, licking and slurping and prodding at the balls inside.

Then the Mate’s hand was in the way.

“Hold on, Remus. Oh, gods… I must be mad.”

He batted the Mate’s hand away with his nose and returned to licking those huge balls. But the Mate’s hand returned to grip his flesh-stick. Ah! Wise Mate was pulling the hot flesh-stick out of his way. Perfect. He ignored the sight of the Mate’s hand flying fast and furiously up and down the flesh-stick. Such habits were peculiarly human. He himself preferred to lick his own bollocks whenever possible. There was just something about worshipping that particularly blatant sign of male potency he couldn’t get enough of. In this form, of course, he couldn’t care less about ‘why.’

The Mate was groaning, panting, mumbling words and phrases that barely made sense. The Mate’s hand was flying faster now; it was almost a blur. He kept licking and occasionally, the Mate shoved his flesh-stick in the way of his tongue and he licked that, too. It tasted wonderfully and he enjoyed lapping up the Mate’s fluid. It just wasn’t as fun as the balls.

And then the Mate grabbed hold of his jaws and pulled him firmly an inch or two away from the Mate’s groin. Confused, he looked up at the Mate’s dark eyes and pale face. He smelled strong arousal, of course, his Mate had somehow gone into Heat, and there was sweat and a spicy hint of shame. Then something splattered against his snout. He reacted automatically by trying to pull his face away. His tongue shot out to clean the stuff off his fur, and then he was hit by another spurt.

It was his Mate’s seed and he caught the third spurt on his tongue. Instantly, he licked all traces of it off his snout, swallowing it happily. He wanted more, so he began cleaning the Mate’s flesh-stick. It softened under his tongue, but not without some intriguing twitching. The Mate was soon clean.

_Want more! Give more!_

He sat back and waited. Surely Mate could provide more than just that tiny sample? After all, when he exploded, he could shoot for almost an hour. And the Mate was obviously virile; the size of the bollocks alone proved that. So where was the rest?

The Mate signaled him to come closer, then gently guided his head to rest on the Mate’s inner thigh. After a moment, he let his legs collapse underneath him, completely relaxing his body half on the floor, half on the chair, cradled between the Mate’s legs. His tail swished once or twice on the floor. The Mate petted his head slowly, saying nothing.

It took a long time for the fire to die down to a crimson glow, but he and his Mate enjoyed every moment of it in peace, quiet, and absolutely always, in love.


	29. Equals

Now it was 29 minutes to the hour and Severus _still_ hadn’t decided what to wear.

“He said ‘don’t wear your work clothes’,” he muttered. “But all I have are work clothes!”

“Should’ve taken my advice and gone shopping today,” sniffed the mirror which hung on the inside door of his tall wardrobe.

“Be quiet,” he growled. “I can still brew that glass-dissolver.”

After a short length of silence, Severus went back to riffling through his clothes, satisfied he had bullied his mirror into submission.

But then came a tearful cry. “Brute!”

He stood in his best drawers and only his drawers. He couldn’t put on socks until he knew what sort of trousers he’d be wearing, and he couldn’t put on trousers until he knew what sort of shirt he’d be wearing and it all boiled down to his lack of understanding of what ‘don’t wear your work clothes’ meant.

“He probably won’t even turn up,” he grumbled. “All this will be for nothing.”

Frustrated, he dug further back into his closet, his hands seizing on something stiff… yet flexible. Trousers? No! He grabbed the hanger and pulled it out into the light. Jeans! Where did he get jeans from? Oh, yes. Lucius Malfoy had given them to him years ago so that he could masquerade as a Muggle for reconnaissance purposes. When was that, 1979?

“But are jeans too casual?” he wondered. Then he looked again at the slightly faded denim. “And do these still fit?”

“Pish-tosh,” sniffed the mirror. “They’ll still fit. It’s not like you’ve put on any weight since _I’ve_ known you.”

He considered it. Remus often wore jeans. It was possible, even probable, that he’d be wearing jeans tonight. Faded, soft, comfortable jeans that cradled his backside. Severus would look foolish wearing a suit, if Remus wore jeans.

“Hmm…. If I wear a long-sleeved shirt, my usual boots… that might not look so terrible. Depending on where we end up, it might even be acceptable.” Yes. He’d give it a try.

The jeans ended up being a bit loose around his waist and hips, looser than he’d remembered, but the legs still hung past his ankles, so that was all right. Once he got his shirt tucked in, then the jeans would fill out a bit.

Shirtless, bootless, he went back into his bathroom. He’d spent the day preparing ingredients for his first week of classes. Ordinarily, he would have done a bit of washing up as no one would notice or care what he smelled like, this still being summer holiday, but it was a bit of a special occasion. His hair was still damp from his relatively lengthy shower and hung in thick strings. He picked up his comb and tried to fix it, but succeeded only in re-wetting the drier sections. He considered casting a drying charm, but knew it would only serve to cause fly-away hairs. Letting it dry naturally seemed to produce a greasy appearance after an hour or so. He couldn’t win.

He spent the next several minutes trying different parts in his hair, wondering if it could possibly make a difference, wondering if he had time to cut it or time to artificially lengthen it. But if he cut it, what then? And if he lengthened it, how long should it go? He had a sudden image of himself with waist-length hair.

“Oh, gods, never!”

Then he heard knocking on the outer door.

“Damn it! He’s early!” Severus threw down the comb and hurried into the bedroom to grab his shirt. He managed to pull the shirt closed and begin buttoning it before reaching the door. He glanced at the mantel clock. It was 6:56. Forcing a big smile, Severus pulled open the knob and said, “You’re early!”

It was Dumbledore.

“How delightful!” Dumbledore exclaimed with a small clap of his hands. “I was expected?”

Severus’s first thought was _this is not Remus Lupin_ , his second was _does Dumbledore ever worry about what to wear? – probably not_ and his third was _is this where I find out Remus has canceled?_ Aloud, he said, “Headmaster, no! I mean, er… what are you doing here?” He glanced up the hallway. There was no one else there.

Mischievously twinkling, Dumbledore explained. “I was back in residence this afternoon. Usually, you and I have supper together to discuss… things. You never showed up. I became concerned. Have you eaten yet today?”

“I had breakfast,” he mumbled. “Was there something in particular we needed to discuss?”

“Just some concerns about young Mr. Potter’s Ministry hearing,” the headmaster said. “Are you expecting someone, Severus? You’re all… spruced up.”

Severus ran his fingertips across his scalp, combing his hair into disarray. He glanced again at the clock. It now read 6:57. “Well, I –“

“Headmaster! How on Earth-!”

Remus was here! Severus felt his heart begin to thud in excitement even as his stomach twisted with embarrassment. Having his boss be present while he was about to go on his first real date was decidedly not pleasant.

Remus Lupin was striding down the hall when he saw the headmaster and Severus standing in the Potions master’s door. He frowned. How had the headmaster managed to get here first and with time to spare? He’d been on a staircase moving in the opposite direction when Remus had come through the school’s main entrance. Remus vowed to have another look at the Marauder’s Map just as soon as he could wrangle it back from Harry. There had to be another secret passage.

“Good evening, Mr. Lupin,” Dumbledore said with a slight bow. “May I say, you’re looking quite dapper this evening as well?”

Severus scowled. ‘As well’ implied that Dumbledore had complimented Severus’s appearance, but what he’d actually said was that Severus was ‘spruced up.’ That hardly meant ‘dapper.’ He checked out Remus’s attire and felt a small trickle of relief. The other man was wearing jeans. He also had on a butter-yellow long-sleeved shirt, brown boots and it appeared as if he had styled his hair differently. It was… fluffier, somehow.

The man looked _good_.

And Severus felt both over- and under-dressed. _Even if I’d worn the suit, I couldn’t hope to look as good._

Remus acknowledged the headmaster with a polite nod and a ‘sir,’ but then focused his attention on his date. “Severus,” he said with a distinctly different timbre to his voice. “Good evening.”

“Lupin.”

“Do you gentlemen have plans for this evening?” Dumbledore asked. He looked from one to the other, a smile playing on his lips.

“We do,” Remus said firmly.

At the same time, Severus said, “Only if you do not require me for something else.”

“I do not,” Dumbledore declared. “I shall expect to see you tomorrow, then. Say… noonish?” He bid both men goodnight and sedately walked up the corridor.

They watched him leave, then Remus turned with another smile at Severus. “Are you ready? I was a bit early and we have plenty of time before our reservations.”

“We have reservations?” He _knew_ he should have worn the suit! Restaurants that required reservations always-but-always required suits. He knew that. Except that Remus wasn’t wearing one.

Remus nodded. “For seven forty-five,” he replied. “We have a few minutes before we really need to leave and if it gets too late, we can always Apparate. It’s just in Hogsmeade.”

Severus nodded. He glanced at his shirt, belatedly realizing he had neglected to finish buttoning or tucking in the tails. He grimaced and turned away, hastily straightening his clothes.

“We have time,” Remus said. “If you’re not ready –“

“I’m ready! Er – I mean, it’ll just be a few minutes. Dumbledore interrupted me.” He smiled, feeling his cheeks stretch and hoped Remus would forgive his apparently untidy appearance. After all, the man wouldn’t have said anything if Severus didn’t look like he needed more time. “If you’ll excuse me?”

Remus watched Severus hurry back into his bedroom. He cursed at himself, knowing he’d mis-stepped somewhere. He’d thought to set Severus at ease by giving him time to calm down, but that had been the wrong thing to do. Not knowing quite what to do next, he settled for shutting Severus’s door and pacing to the fireplace.

~~

In the bathroom, Severus was about ready to destroy his mirror, set fire to his bed and claim a sudden Death Eater attack, thereby canceling this mockery of social convention. The more he fussed with his hair, the more he tried to disguise his nose, his sallow skin, his sour expression, the more ridiculous it all seemed. There was no disguising any of it. He was just… ugly. That’s all there was to it.

“Well, bugger that, then,” he decided. “I can’t do anything about it now,” he told his reflection, “so why am I so worried? Besides, it’s not like he can expect me to turn into that Jamie Bamber.” He sighed, thinking of the impossibly winsome young actor whose picture he’d seen in a confiscated Muggle magazine. He pushed aside the memory of what he had done while looking at that magazine. That was no way to fill out a pair of jeans properly.

For his last birthday, he’d treated himself to some rather expensive cologne. It was a magical formula, guaranteed to make him smell however the people around him wanted him to smell. If a person preferred spicy scents, for example, they smelled spiciness on his skin. Severus carefully dabbed a few drops behind each ear, then got brave and splashed a half-teaspoon’s worth over his cheeks and neck. He wiped off the remaining residue on the seat of his jeans, then winced at his Freudian slip.

“If I wash it off, I’ll get wet,” he sneered at himself. “Too late now.”

He finished adjusting his shirt, ensuring that the buttons were fastened correctly and that they bisected his narrow chest properly. He gave up on his hair and retrieved his boots. Slipping them on took no real time and, six minutes after he left Remus alone in his sitting room, he was ready to depart.

“Do I look all right?” he asked, ready to dart back inside his bedroom and just put on one of his usual suits.

Remus smiled. “You look wonderful. I like that color on you.”

Severus looked down at his shirt. It was still the same, dun-colored material he’d thought it was. “Er, thank you,” he said. “You look very nice this evening.” There. He’d returned the compliment politely. Formality accomplished.

“And you put on cologne!” He leaned toward Severus and sniffed delicately. “It’s unusual – I like it.”

Severus smiled. He felt ridiculous saying it again, but, ‘thank you,’ was all he could think to say and it seemed rather conspicuous of him to sniff at Remus in return. A bit too canine, actually. Again, he regretted accidentally perfuming his backside. Much too late now, he thought wryly. 

“Shall we go?”

“Let me get my wand.”

~~

Remus kept up a cheerful monologue as they strode toward and then through the village. Apparently, Weasley’s elevation to prefect had astonished both of his friends and most of his family. Snape permitted himself a small, gloating grin. When he’d been informed of the Headmaster’s decision, he had laughed delightedly. How the mighty – meaning Potter – had fallen! Of course, he shared no such recollection with Remus.

“I remember being so proud when I got my notice,” Remus was saying. “My dad and his wife were chuffed, I can tell you. We had all been certain it would be Sirius or James.” He shook his head. “Not that it would have made much difference. I was not what you’d call a ‘model prefect.’”

Severus wisely said nothing.

They had reached the village green. Remus took a right and Severus had a vague worry that they were heading toward Madame Puddifoot’s – but no, Remus led him right past it. A bit further on down the road was a small restaurant Severus had never had occasion to patronize: _Camera di Nonna_.

Severus stopped short at the door. He turned to Remus, ignoring the expectant hostess with the politely inquiring expression on her face. “You can’t be serious,” he said. “You’re not taking me here.”

Remus pulled Severus a few steps away. He smiled at the hostess and held up a finger to signal her to ‘wait, please.’ “Severus? What’s wrong with this place? I heard it was nice.”

“There is nothing wrong with the restaurant itself,” he said. “But think about it. _You_ are taking me _here_.”

“… and?”

He sighed with exasperation. “ _You_ are taking me to a restaurant called, in translation, _Grandmother’s House_!”

Remus continued to have a completely blank expression on his face.

Severus nearly shrieked at him. “Grandmother’s house!”

Then, realization. “Oh!” Remus flushed and then laughed delightedly. “I hadn’t thought of it like that. But if it truly bothers you, we can always go somewhere else.”

“No, it’s fine,” Severus said, shaking his head. “Irony has a way of haunting me wherever I go. If we left, we’d probably end up at Rosemerta’s.”

“And what would be wrong with that?” Remus asked, guiding Severus to the restaurant’s entrance.

“She’s begun serving some Muggle confection called ‘moon pie.’”

Remus’s laughter echoed in the small entryway as the hostess confirmed their reservation and took them to their table.

~~

The restaurant had once been a rather elegant townhouse. Diners sat in various rooms that still maintained some of their original character. Remus and Severus were seated in the former front parlor. Their table was not quite in the corner of the room, but it was out of the general way of things and near enough to the fireplace for warmth and ambiance. However, since late August was not typically a cool month, even in Scotland, the roaring fire gave off no heat. Also from their table, they could see out the windows to the street beyond. Remus smiled as he took his seat; lights were beginning to dot the increasing darkness.

They thanked the hostess; she left their menu cards and told them their server would be with them shortly. They sat in awkward silence for a short moment before a young gentleman turned up with a welcoming smile and said, “Professor Lupin! It’s so good to have you with us this evening. And… Professor Snape.”

Remus narrowed his eyes in thought. “I’m sorry. I remember the face, but –“

“Good evening, Mr. Chadwick,” Severus said coolly. “I had forgotten your parents operated this establishment. I trust you have nothing more to do in the kitchens than serve the food?”

“No, sir,” Chadwick said with a short bow. “My parents don’t let me anywhere near them when they’re cooking. Let me tell you the specials and then get you gentlemen something to drink.”

“Very well.”

“That would be fine, Charles,” Remus said. Apparently, he had remembered the boy’s name at last. Severus studied his menu and Chadwick began to recite.

~~

Their dinners completed, Remus tried to interest Severus in dessert. “Come on. No dinner is complete without dessert! It’s practically a Lupin family tradition. Don’t make me eat it alone.”

“I never have dessert.”

Remus stared at him. “How can you go through life without eating dessert? It’s the only reason to eat your vegetables.”

“Vegetables are good for you. Dessert is not.”

“It’s _important_.”

“It’s frivolous.”

“So be frivolous. Just once in your life.”

“I was. I accepted your invitation to dinner.”

Remus blinked at him. “That can’t be your sole frivolous act, Severus. That’s just… wrong.”

Severus shrugged and pushed his empty plate away from him. “Nevertheless, there it is. Frivolity leads to sloppy thinking and that leads to death.”

“It can also lead to fun,” Remus pointed out. “Fun does not equal death.”

“I do not care for sweets.”

“Everyone cares for sweets. Even a little. What about when you were a kid? Didn’t you like sweets then?”

Severus nodded. “And my parents cured me of that.”

“H-how do you mean?”

“They made me eat candy and sweets until I became literally sick of it. I swore I’d never touch the stuff again. It was ingenious, really. They saved a fortune not buying me treats.”

“That’s barbaric,” Remus said. “Just barbaric. But I know I’ve seen you eat sweets. Remember that one Valentine’s Day in, when was it? Fourth Year? When the house elves made color-coded cupcakes for each house?”

Severus nodded. “I understand they were quite delicious.”

“You mean you didn’t have any?”

“I traded mine for Nott’s broccoli.”

Remus could not stop staring at him. “That’s… that’s insane. I almost can’t believe it. Except it’s you and yeah, I can believe that only you would do something like that.”

“It does sound like me, doesn’t it?”

Chadwick approached. “Would you professors care to have some dessert?”

“Yes, we would,” Severus replied, much to Remus’s obvious shock. “I understand the rum raisin crème brulee here is excellent. I think a dish of that and a slice of the lava cake. Will that suit you?”

“You bastard.”

Chadwick flinched. “Um, sirs? I could come back…”

Severus’s hand flew to cover his mouth as he began to laugh. Remus glared at their waiter, growled, “That’ll suit, Charlie,” and then turned his glare to his dinner partner. “You utter, rotten bastard! You were just winding me up!”

“I couldn’t help it,” Severus said, his laughter still muffled by his hand. “Your expression was just so completely… _lost_...”

“I’ll get you back,” Remus promised. “When you least expect it.”

“I’m shaking in my boots.”

“Just you wait.”

~~

“It’s a beautiful night,” Severus said, knowing the words were inane but wanting to break the silence as they walked back to Hogwarts. They had kept up their conversation so well during dinner; he’d been as relaxed as he ever had been. He had felt charming and desirable. Remus had laughed at all of his jokes, and he’d thought of so many! There had been no mention of Awful Past Events, Chronic Illnesses, or Dark Lords. It had been light and easy and – it had been like a real date.

A long time ago, Severus had found a book on etiquette in his cousin’s library. Even then, he had known it was a bit outdated, but still the images and descriptions fascinated him. There was an entire section on dating etiquette which covered everything from how to plan a date to what to do when you took her home. The fact that Severus had often imagined himself in the girl’s position, politely kissing the handsome, clean-cut young gentleman on the cheek after their second date, then his lips on the third, meant nothing more than that he found girls ‘icky.’ He was only six years old.

But his impressions of how dating should be had remained largely the same. As he grew older, he did realize that he definitely preferred the idea of kissing young gentlemen. The trouble was, none of those young gentlemen seemed to want to kiss him. Nor did they want to take him on long walks through a garden, on study dates in a library or to a winter carnival put on by ice fairies. There was no one wanting to take him out for tea and walk him home afterward. No one to give him flowers or small tokens of affection or provide remembrances of shared events. There was simply no one.

Now here he was, being escorted home by a ‘young gentleman,’ and he strove to remember the etiquette book’s advice. There was something about engaging in witty banter - _check_ \- and proper behavior - _check_ \- and even something about not showing off one’s magical abilities as that could imply that one could take care of oneself, and a lady did not ever imply that - _also, check_ \- despite his not being a lady. No, he had behaved extremely properly.

On a first date, a lady was supposed to extend her hand graciously and thank the gentleman for a ‘lovely evening.’ On the second, she was permitted a hug and/ or a kiss on the cheek. On the third, she was permitted to kiss him on the lips. Severus well remembered the fresh-faced young couple demonstrating the handshake, the cheek-kiss and the lip-lock. But was this their first date? They had already had sex, and they were both grown men. The old rules seemed decidedly ludicrous. But what, then, were the new rules?

“It’s not a full moon,” Remus was saying. “That’s always a plus in my book.”

_A lady might discreetly suggest a future activity, if she wishes to encourage her gentleman’s further attentions._

“Have you never had one of Rosemerta’s moon pies?” Severus asked suddenly. “They are quite good, in a despicably Muggle sort of way. Thoroughly bad for you, I suspect, but worth a try.”

“Perhaps,” Remus said with a smile.

What did that mean? In the book the fresh-faced boy had immediately offered to take the girl to the winter carnival. Why didn’t Remus offer to take him to Rosemerta’s?

Then a devil asked him why he was insisting on playing the girl in this drama. Was he a man or wasn’t he? But Severus had always pictured himself in that girl’s place; he had always wanted to kiss that boy, over and over again. He was stuck in that book that was already outdated when his cousin had used it to prop up one end of his dresser.

They reached the front doors of the school. Remus opened the door without barely pausing. “After you,” he said.

~~

“Where do the ghosts go in the summer?” Remus asked as they strode through the seemingly-empty castle. “I’ve always wondered.”

“They visit friends, other haunts,” Severus explained. “The Baron has a family estate in Glasgow, I’m led to believe. He reenacts his death every Midsummer.”

Remus glanced at him. “How nice for his family.”

Severus shrugged. “It’s a Muggle tourist spot now. There is no magic in the direct line. I suspect that’s one reason the Baron is always so… testy.”

They reached Severus’s door. This time, there was no chaperoning headmaster, but it was still awkward, at least to Severus’s mind. He turned, opened his mouth to say – who knew what – when Remus laid a hand on his chest and firmly pushed him back against the door. The other man regarded him calmly for all of three long seconds, then filled the space between them with a kiss.

Severus’s mouth fell open almost instantly, striving to recapture that feeling he’d experienced the previous night, when Remus had kissed him for the first time. It was there, that familiar sensation, just on the edge of that one swirling emotion and there! He found it when Remus’s tongue slipped along the inside of his upper lip, and he felt a tiny bit of suction on his tongue, and Remus’s hands slid down his waist to just above his arse.

It was not the picture in that book, but it would do quite well indeed.

They held onto each other, sharing breath and rubbing their bodies gently in tandem, until Severus was quite sure he’d just fall to his hands and knees right then and there and beg Remus to be done with it. But then Remus broke the kiss, nuzzled Severus’s jaw just by his earlobe, braced an arm above Severus’s head and whispered, his voice husky and raw, “Invite me in.”

“Gods, yes,” Severus whispered. He opened the door.

Once through it, Severus pushed the door shut and moved toward Remus, fully intending to herd the man into the bedroom, he was that lost in passion. But Remus guided him instead to the couch, pushing him down onto it with a sly grin.

“Stay still,” Remus said, and he fell to his knees in front of him. “I want to do something special, but you have to keep your hands to yourself. Well,” he added with a chuckle, “keep your hands on the cushion. Don’t touch. All right?”

Completely bewildered, Severus could only nod.

“Good.” Remus slid his hands up Severus’s thighs, over his hips and up his chest to his neck. He deftly undid each button all the way down the shirt, finally untucking the tails. He then slid his hands under the shirt, across Severus’s warm skin. With a wicked gleam in his eye, Remus’s fingers then focused on the jeans.

Severus had never thought that the sound of a zipper being pulled open could possibly be erotic – but it was. Oh my, he thought – is Remus going to… to… put his mouth on me? _There?_ But what if he sees it and changes his mind?

He glanced around the room. As usual, the house elves had set every candle to light when someone entered. He pulled his wand from his sleeve and doused all of them but one high up in the corner. There was enough light so they would not trip over the furniture, but not enough to distinguish such things as scars or oversized external organs.

Remus tugged at the jeans’ waistband. Severus lifted his hips to allow the other man to pull the denim pants down his thighs and over his knees, then do the same with his underwear. Severus thanked his good fortune just then for even having new underwear; he’d purchased it when he knew why he’d be going to Las Vegas. He’d read somewhere in some Muggle women’s magazine that the best reason to buy new underwear was to celebrate a new lover. It was only three pair of cotton briefs, but the thought still counted.

He closed his eyes anyway, mentally bracing himself for a derogatory comment, a revelation that it was all an elaborate prank to humiliate him, something other than what did happen.

Remus lifted Severus’s cock to his lips and kissed the tip of it, then licked it like a lolly, then… then…

_Enclosed his entire mouth around it._

_And began to suckle._

Severus lost the ability to hold his head upright, his ability to think or speak coherent thoughts. Remus’s mouth was hot and wet and sliding and moving and gripping at him and it was all… so… unreal. And then Remus stopped sucking him. He pulled back and replaced that skillful mouth with equally talented fingers. He stroked Severus, firmly and with definite purpose, sliding the foreskin with expert care as he bent his head to his task once more – but this time, skipping the cock and going straight to the bane of Severus’s existence: those gargantuan bollocks.

Perhaps in the darkness, he couldn’t see how hideously huge they were, Severus thought. That could be why he was bathing them with his tongue and whispering to them, which was exceedingly odd.

“Hello, darlings,” Remus was saying. “I’m your new best friend. I’m going to learn everything about you and you’re going to be so spoiled by the time I’m through with you…”

Whatever that meant. It scarcely mattered. The combination of warm air and friction and gentle lips and those soft moans someone was making every other movement did not help Severus keep his mind on where he was or even who he was. Remus’s mouth returned to engulf his prick; he could swear he felt Remus’s throat at some point – it had to be there somewhere, right? His anatomy couldn’t be that different and while Severus was not as blessed in the penis department as some others he’d seen, his length at least was nothing to be ashamed of and that meant that at some point he would necessarily be poking down Remus’s convulsing throat and the idea of THAT was enough to make him shudder, to make his hips thrust up, to plunge his cock even further into Remus’s welcoming mouth – to come in a quiet explosion of light and sound.

He barely remembered Remus gently removing his jeans and underwear completely, or him pulling a lap robe across his bare legs, or kissing him gently on the mouth once more, but when Remus said, “Good night, Severus. I’ll see myself out,” that he remembered.

“Where are you going? What’s going on? Why aren’t you…?” But he had no words to express his real question. Why aren’t you dragging me into my bedroom, making demands upon my body, using me like you did before? What’s changed? What’s wrong?

Remus smiled down at him. “Don’t look that way, Severus, because it’s not what you think. You probably think I’m rejecting you. Nothing could be further from the truth. I asked you out because I wanted to spend an evening with you before the school year began and things got… hectic. I also wanted to orally please you, because I have the impression you haven’t gotten enough head in your life.”

Severus tried not to react to that. No one had ever done to him before, but it wasn’t important that Remus know that. Yet. If ever. He’d have to think about it.

Remus continued. “I want very much to do more with you of a sexual and romantic nature, but I’m fully conscious of the fact that you haven’t had a lot of choices in that regard. I realize now that buying time with a prostitute was not the best way to go about giving you that experience of being in complete control of ‘who’ and ‘when’ and ‘how,’ so I’m going to go about this in an entirely different way.”

Remus took a deep breath. “I’m going to walk away from you now. I’m going to let you think about what you really want in your life, and especially who you really want in your life. I hope it’s me, but if we just keep on like we’ve been, I’ll come to wonder if the only reason you’re with me is because I’m the one who asked, not because you’d rather be with me than with anyone else in the world. I deserve to know that I’m wanted for myself and not just by default. Same as you.”

Severus remained still, stunned by this speech.

“So this is what I think you should do. Let me go. Wait seven days minimum before contacting me in any way on a personal level. Naturally, Order business is excluded from this. After that, if you decide you want me in your life, call me. I don’t care how. Come visit. Owl me. Fire-call me. Waylay me in a dark alley.” Remus grinned. “Which might be fun, come to that. Think about what you want in a lover, and if it’s me, let me know.”

“Seven days,” Severus repeated. It seemed like such a long time and his heart insisted he was being rejected, despite his brain telling him _his argument seems reasonable_.

“And then call me. I’ll come running.”

“And if I decide you’re not what I want?”

Remus huffed a dry laugh. “Then don’t call me. I won’t pester you about it, I swear.”

“Very well. It’s a deal.”

~~

_Three (or so) Months Later…_

“You bastard.”

“I did what you asked.”

“I asked you to wait _seven days!_ ”

“And I did.”

“Shall I summon a calendar? It’s been three months, three weeks, two days and eighteen hours!”

“Someone’s been keeping track.”

“I haven’t had much else to do.”

“Well, I have. You have no idea what it’s like working with that – that odious _toad_ of a ‘fellow professor.’ Do you know she’s calling herself the ‘High Inquisitor’?”

“I heard. It’s hideous. But I really don’t want to talk about her.”

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg. The Weasley twins have got it in their heads they don’t need to pay attention in class. I’m almost afraid to check their work for fear I’ll end up uncontrollably vomiting-“

“Enough! I get the picture. You’re busy. You lost track of time.”

“I did no such thing. I used my time quite wisely and well. You told me to think about what I wanted in a lover, so I did. You told me to contact you if I decided that man was you, and here I am.”

“… oh.”

“I waited the perquisite seven days.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Have I waited too long?”

“No. Not at all. I was just… a little frantic I had driven you away or something.”

“Nonsense. I was utilizing my time as best I could. I want to make an educated decision.”

“And that decision is…?”

“I have tickets to a lecture series in Hogsmeade for next Friday evening. Would you care to attend with me?”

“I’d be delighted.”


	30. Love Like You've Never Seen

“First month’s rent plus 30 galleons deposit,” Remus explained. “It’s not bad for a place of my own, don’t you think?”

Roland smiled and pulled Remus into a warm embrace. “I think it’s going to be perfect. And it’s going to be _our_ own.”

“Right. Our very own,” Remus agreed. “Ours to do with as we please. No McGonagall, no Flitwick, no Dumbledore telling us to go back to our own dorms. We can have people over whenever we please, sleep in whenever we like. No homework, no parents. It’s paradise.”

“Paradise needs a bit of furniture,” Roland commented mildly. “And maybe something to cover the windows?”

Remus pulled back a bit from his boyfriend. He looked around at his flat once more. “Why? Furniture would just take up space and this way, there’s enough room to do… this!” He wrapped his arms around Roland’s chest and half-forced and half-carried him to the floor, ending up lying on top of him.

“See? If there were a table here, we couldn’t do this.” He grinned.

Roland just stared at him. “But maybe we would have done this on the bed?”

“That’s what that is, over there in the corner,” Remus said, pointing toward a folded bundle of blankets and pillows. “Ingenious, isn’t it? I can sleep anywhere in this entire flat I want to.”

“Not that there’s much choice,” he said with a teasing smirk.

“Are you trying to say this place is too small?”

Roland laughed. “It’s certainly not too large! It’s a shoebox. You have to step outside to turn around!”

“It’s not that small.”

It wasn’t. Remus’s first home was a single room flat two floors above Fortescue’s ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley. Fortescue owned the building himself. Remus had taken his landlord into his confidence about his lycanthropy. The room he now rented had been enhanced with barriers to prevent him or his howling from escaping when transformed. Fortescue also had no problem adding Roland to the lease when he left Hogwarts the following year.

The flat itself was almost 400 square feet. There was a galley-style kitchen and an en suite bathroom, built-in bookshelves and a wide window overlooking the street below. Remus thought it was perfect and he christened it ‘the Garret’. He had to use the communal floo in Diagon Alley, so the moniker had no legal meaning, but he liked the literary feel. His parents had given him some money to help get started in life and he used some of it for the deposit. After the weekend, he needed to find a job. His only concern was, where to start looking? He had no doubt he would find employment. After all, he was well qualified for a private position in the Wizarding world, and he could easily find his way around the Muggle one. Thanks to his Muggle mother, he had no need to go to the Ministry for Magic to obtain the proper credentials. He had them from birth.

He had spent a half hour that morning moving in. His parents had provided him a set of dishes and flatware and a few weeks’ worth of food. He had taken up a collection of blankets and pillows from his friends; Lily had even given him her old sleeping bag. His books were on the shelves and his school trunk served as a dresser. What more did he really need?

“By the time you move in next year,” Remus said, “I’ll have this place in order. You can even help me shop.”

Roland rewarded that plan with a kiss. “By the way, I made a complete transformation yesterday.”

“That’s wonderful!” Remus grinned, returning the kiss with much enthusiasm. “Are you finally ready to tell me what animal you’ll be becoming? Or will you show me instead?” He slid to one side to give Roland room to transform. His boyfriend had been purposely coy about his Animagus lessons with Professor McGonagall, only telling Remus that he turned into ‘something furry.’

“I won’t show you!” Roland gently scolded. “I don’t have my Ministry Animagus license yet. It’d be illegal. But I will tell you which animal, now that we know for sure.”

Remus nodded eagerly.

Roland grinned. “I’m a raccoon! Isn’t that just perfect?”

“A… a raccoon?”

“Uh-huh! I looked in the mirror. I look like I’m wearing goggles. It’s pretty funny,” Roland said, clearly delighted with himself.

“But… a raccoon?”

“Yeah. A raccoon. What’s the matter? I told you it was small and furry.” Roland frowned slightly. “Are you disappointed I’m not some kind of dog?”

“Huh? No!” Remus hastened to reassure him. “Of course not!” But he couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

“Yes, you are,” Roland said, sitting up. “You want me to become a dog just like Sirius, so we can be ‘pack mates’ or something. I understand.”

Remus sat up as well. “You don’t understand,” he insisted. “It has nothing to do with that. Peter and James are pack mates, too, and they’re not dogs.”

“Then what’s wrong? I know something is. You can’t fool me, Remy. Just spill it.”

Remus sighed, then relented. “Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t.”

“If you were a larger animal – not too big. Maybe… a fox. Or even a large cat. Like a jaguar or something -  
”

Roland’s eyes grew very wide. “Me? A jaguar?”

“Or something,” Remus said quickly. “Then, well… we could… you know… have sex.”

“We have sex now.”

“During the full moon!”

Roland shifted away from Remus. “That’s… that’s just… sick, Remy. My real purpose in becoming an Animagus was so we could stay together every Change and you could be kept calmer and more under control, and so I’d be immune to lycanthropy. Not so we could have… unnatural sex!”

“It wouldn’t be unnatural,” Remus insisted. “Besides, technically, you’re already having ‘unnatural’ sex. The Ministry classifies me as a beast, not as a human being!”

“It’s different when you _look_ like a human being, Remy! Besides, you know I don’t give a fig how the Ministry classifies you. You’re a man with a disease, not a ‘beast.’”

“Then why –“

“Because I don’t have any desire to have sex with a furry creature.” Roland folded his arms across his chest and stared hard at his boyfriend. “Is that really so hard to understand?”

“No, I guess not,” Remus said, uncertain why this news dismayed him so much. He forced a cheerful smile. “It was worth a shot, anyway.”

Roland relented, his posture softening. Their argument, such as it was, had ended. “Well, I was pretty pleased about the raccoon.”

“So am I! I’m honestly glad we’ll be able to stay together on full moon nights. There’s at least twelve a year, you know. Sometimes thirteen. Just me and the raccoon.” He grinned suddenly. “Will you start washing all of your food now before you’ll eat it?”

Roland blinked. “I… hope not. Does James find himself attracted to salt licks during the winter?”

“Good point.”

“Anyway,” Roland said, “you’re missing the main thing. Raccoons have opposable thumbs.”

“… and?”

“They can open doors, jars, windows… If something happened to you while in wolf-form, I could still get out, get help, whatever. I could probably still use my wand, if it came to that. Professor McGonagall’s going to work with me on that next year.”

“That does sound useful,” Remus said. “And I suppose I can deal with not having sex _one_ night a month,” he added with mock drama. “But that’s not today, so…” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Let’s roll out the bed,” Roland said with a grin.

~~

The afternoon droned on outside their flat. In the street below, they heard the hustling bustle of shoppers and laughing children, but inside, the two young men lay naked on a pallet of mismatched blankets, gently stroking each other’s stomachs.

“My arse is sore,” Roland murmured. “I top next time.”

“We should try to find a dildo or something,” Remus said. “Then we could both be penetrated at the same time. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“You’re so kinky!” Roland laughed. “Where do you get this stuff?”

“Hey, at least you’ll never be bored.”

“Not with you and your wild ideas, I won’t,” Roland agreed. “Now clean me off. You know you want to.”

Remus’s eyes lit up. “Yes, sir,” he said. He got to his knees beside Roland and bent his head to his boyfriend’s bare abdomen. A splash or two of semen had begun to dry on his lightly tanned skin. Remus began to lick it up, slowly and with as much eye contact with Roland as he could.

“That’s so hot, Remy,” Roland said. “You’re making me so hard… Suck me, please!”

When Remus did take Roland’s cock into his mouth, his hand easily cupping his boyfriend’s bollocks, both boys groaned at the contact. Remus concentrated on establishing a strong rhythm of sliding up and down, and sucking hard and soft, while Roland slid his hand around Remus’s arse to slip a pair of fingers inside his boyfriend’s body. Remus shifted his arse closer to Roland, enabling the boy to more easily find and stroke Remus’s prostate, rewarding him for each hearty swallow of cock down his throat.

They moved in practiced tandem, sliding and swallowing and moaning and begging. They ignored the sounds of the people in the street below, the shouting, the cursing, the screaming. It had nothing to do with them, after all.


	31. The Man I Love

By May 31st, Severus and Remus had returned from their impromptu holiday to the states. The six weeks medical leave Severus had been granted were finally over and he was permitted to return to his classes. To his eternal relief, it seemed the harsh spotlight that had been directed at the so-called ‘heroes’ of the fight against Voldemort had been dimmed, or at least, redirected elsewhere. Rita Skeeter had decamped from Hogsmeade and was chasing down some rumor or other about a whangdoodle sighting, and the Ministry itself had given up hope of honoring either man in person and had awarded their Orders of Merlin in absentia. And, most delightful of all, Harry Potter’s fan club had been forcibly dispersed from school grounds at least ten days ago. He had finally complained that he was not getting any NEWTs revising done, and that had been enough to convince the Ministry to issue a decree allowing Harry Potter to live a private life. At least while he attended school.

Their Portkey deposited them at the Ministry Transportation Zone, and they were able to Floo to Hogwarts in time for lunch. The first person they met as they strode into the castle was the Headmaster.

“Severus! I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” Dumbledore said, embracing each man in greeting. “And Remus! I’m delighted to see you both. I trust you had a pleasant holiday and are prepared to return to the potions room, Severus?”

“Sir,” Severus said, as pleasantly as he could, considering. “I was never needful of the trip in the first place. If you recall, St. Mungo’s cured the spell damage in three days. I did not require the six weeks you forced me to take –“

“Nonsense, nonsense! You needed the rest, the change of pace, the change of scenery! You had never taken a holiday in all the years you’ve worked here and, Severus, you deserved one. You of all people. Now tell me,” he said, clasping his hands delightedly. “Did you bring me anything?”

Remus watched the two banter and laughed. “Some things never change and for that, I am grateful. Yes, Albus, we did. Here –“ he shoved a box into Albus’s arms. “There are tags on everything. We’ll be checking later, so don’t go mixing up who gets what! _Minerva_ gets the tequila. _You_ get the dream-catcher, and _Sybil_ gets the peyote. It is _not_ any other way around!”

Dumbledore promised, but as he walked back to his office to stow the box of presents, they could hear him say, “No one appreciates my sense of humor.” 

Remus grabbed Severus by the elbow and steered him in the opposite direction. Their baggage followed them in a hovering line.

“He’ll mix them up,” Severus complained. “You know that and I know that. He can’t be trusted with other people’s presents. One year, he switched the staff exchange gift tags. Hagrid ended up with the robes Sprout had intended for Flitwick.”

Remus burst out laughing at the image. “Oh, no! Did he – well, no, he couldn’t wear them. What did Hagrid do with them?”

Severus grinned. “Fang was extremely well dressed that winter.”

Remus slipped his arm comfortably around Severus’s waist as they continued companionably to the lower levels. Unnoticed by either of them, a young man stood watching them, his bewildered, hurt expression becoming increasingly determined and angry.

~~

“Go ahead. I know you’re anxious to see how your classroom’s held up,” Remus said with a smile. “I’ll deliver your bags to your room and floo home from there. Kiss me goodbye?”

“Thank you,” Severus said, moving close to bestow a brief kiss on the other man’s lips. “I am anxious to see what wreckage that Ministry-appointed substitute has left in my room. And I did assign all those essays. I should get started grading those, and then there are the finals to prepare for –“

Remus pushed him away with a rueful laugh. “Then go! The sooner you get started the sooner you’ll be done and the sooner you can say ‘good-bye’ to this job and start doing what you really love.”

Severus raised a sardonic eyebrow. “That is precisely my plan.”

Remus flushed lightly, nodded and stepped away. “I’ll catch up with you later,” he promised. “Go work!”

The classroom was not quite in the disarray Severus had expected. Things were mostly put back in their proper places and there were no additional burn marks on the tables or holes in the floor. He thought about checking for fresh bloodstains, but decided not to press his luck. His grade book was in the top desk drawer as usual. Inside it was a note from the substitute. Severus sat down to read it before collecting the students’ essays or examining the grade book further.

_Professor Snape,_

_Thank you for this opportunity to teach your Potions classes. These past six weeks have only confirmed for me that my skills are best utilized in the classroom. I now fully intend to obtain my teaching certificate and then hunt for a posting._

_Your grade book has been updated. I did my best to be tough but fair in my assessment of the students’ work. You should be proud of your pupils. They were attentive, inquisitive, and altogether a joy to teach. There were some minor mishaps, but nothing I couldn’t handle. A complete report is enclosed._

_A special commendation must be made about Miss Granger -_

“Excuse me?”

Severus looked up. Harry Potter stood in the doorway. He had a strangely determined expression on his face.

“What is it, Mr. Potter? Can’t you see I’m busy?” He held up the note as evidence.

“This will only take a moment,” Potter said, stepping into the classroom. He pushed the door closed behind him. “We need to talk.”

Immediately irritated simply by the sight of the boy, Severus wished nothing more than to hex the brat and expel him from the room. But Remus would be insulted on the boy’s behalf and anyway, after four more weeks, none of it would matter.

“Make it quick.”

Potter strode forward swiftly, all the way to Severus’s desk, saying, “You need to stop what you’re doing to Remus.”

Severus carefully put the note inside the grade book and closed it, pushing the leather-bound ledger to one side. “And what precisely,” he said slowly, “is it that I am doing to Mr. Lupin?”

Potter did not blink or look away or alter his belligerent expression. “You know exactly what you’re doing. You’re confounding him or something. You’ve put him under the Imperius Curse! You’ve got him addicted to something in the Wolfsbane Potion! You’re blackmailing him – I don’t know exactly, but you’re obviously doing something to him.”

He sat back in his chair. “Is that so? For what purpose? To what end? And I advise you to be extremely careful of what you say or I’ll not just take twenty points from Gryffindor for questioning me on personal matters, but I’ll have you up on charges before the Wizengamot itself for slander.” He was pleased to note his voice had remained calm despite his inward rage. He knew what Potter was insinuating, that Severus had literally put a spell on Remus to make him fall in love with him or act like it. No doubt, some devil informed him, this was what everyone thought and Potter, perfect little Gryffindor that he was, was just the first one brave enough to say it to his face. Cheeky brat.

Potter leaned over the edge of Severus’s desk, still glaring. “Why? It’s obvious. No one would ever fancy you without you forcing them into it. You’re a pathetic, greasy-haired, shriveled-up old man and no one with any sense would ever –“

“That’s enough!”

The order rang through the classroom, echoing off the glass-fronted shelves and ringing from the stone ceiling, but it came not from Severus Snape’s mouth but from Remus Lupin’s. He stood in the open doorway, face white with shock and fury, his hand clenched tight around the doorknob, his glare directed at Potter.

The boy immediately backed down. He stepped away from the desk, his trainers squeaking on the polished floor. His pale face flushed with guilt and embarrassment, but he kept his head up. “Remus! I didn’t – I thought you had left!”

“I was going to,” Remus said, stepping all the way through the door and shutting it firmly behind him. “But I wanted to ask Severus a question, so I came back. I heard shouting. What do you think you are doing, Harry?”

His voice was so controlled, so even after the initial shout that Severus was uncertain what Remus’s intentions were. Was he truly angry at Potter, he wondered, which was something he could never have fathomed, or was his goal simply to keep others who might be outside in the hallway from eavesdropping? He waited for Potter’s reply.

“I, er… Well, you see, I-”

“Shall I tell you what it looked like you were doing?” Remus asked, as if Potter hadn’t spoken. He walked toward the desk.

Potter nodded. Curiously, his eyes were wide with alarm, all anger seemingly departed.

“It looked like you were accusing your _professor_ of malicious behaviors toward me. Confundus spells, mind-altering potions, an Unforgiveable,” he said with a casual air. “Is that the gist of it?”

Potter nodded stiffly. He crossed his arms, but still did not look away from Remus.

“And do you really think Professor Snape would admit such acts? To you, of all people?”

Now Potter glanced away. “Well, I…”

Remus was the soul of patience. “Yes?”

Severus found himself riveted by this twist in the drama, unable to move and unwilling to speak.

Potter cleared his throat, then squared his shoulders and faced Remus once more. “Someone needed to say something, do something,” he began. “It’s – it’s _unconscionable_ what he’s been allowed to do to you! He needs to be stopped! Now maybe you can’t see it,” he went on a bit more softly. “I was going to go to you next, after I had forced him to admit his wrong-doing. I was going to go to you and – and _help_ you see that it was all a lie. That he’d done horrible things to you. I was going to help you, Remus, just like you’ve helped me all these years. I owe you.”

Remus smiled affectionately. “That’s sweet of you, Harry, and I appreciate the sentiment, but-“

“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Severus could take it no longer. “If the two of you wish to hold a meeting of your mutual admiration society, count me out!” He grabbed his grade book and the box of student essays and stood up. “I’ll be in my office getting some work done. Excuse me!”

He went into his office and shut the door softly behind him. Due to the construction and some surveillance spells he had previously cast, the conversation in the classroom was not completely blocked from him. Nevertheless, he was well schooled in the ability to ignore that which needed to be overlooked. He sat down at his desk, opened his grade book and retrieved the first essay.

_A Theorehtticle Treetease on Bubobutubour Puss, by Vincent Crabe_

Dear heavens, Severus groaned inwardly. The stupid boy even misspelled his own name. Sighing, he dipped his quill into the red inkwell and began to mark.

~~

Remus waited until he heard the office door click shut before turning to Harry, folding his arms, and demanding in a tone that brooked no disobedience, “What the hell is this all about, Harry? Tell me everything and start from the beginning. What do you think you are doing?”

Harry shifted, gathering his thoughts. “Okay, but you have to promise to hear me out, Remus, okay? Because this won’t be easy for you to hear, but you’ve got to trust me. I know what I’m talking about. There’s proof. He’s just been using you to get revenge on me, on my father, on Sirius. On everyone, really. I don’t know what you think he’s been doing, but it hasn’t been good. Let’s get out of here,” he said, tugging at Remus’s arm. “We can go to the Hospital Wing, or to my room, if you prefer. Wherever you can feel safe and get the help you need. Come on!”

“Let go of me!” Remus easily pulled his arm out from Harry’s grip. The boy gave a startled _Oh!_ of surprise. “We’re not going anywhere, but staying right here. No one can hear us and no one’s going to interrupt.”

Harry leaned forward and whispered, “Snape could come in here any moment –“

Remus shook his head. “That’s ‘Professor’ Snape and no, he won’t. He’s said as much. He’ll be in his office grading papers. He won’t bother us.”

“What about someone else?” He waved an arm toward the hall door.

“Harry, honestly. Who’s going to come in here if they think Severus is working here? No one. And even if they do, we’ll just direct them to his office. No one’s going to think twice if they find the two of us having a conversation. So stop stalling and get on with it!”

Thus thwarted, Harry nodded in defeated agreement. “Fine. Snape’s been manipulating you, making you spend time with him, making you act like – like his _lover_ or something!”

“Harry,” Remus said, his tone excruciatingly patient, “ _Professor_ Snape is my lover.”

Harry shook his head. “No, no – that isn’t true. Can’t you see? It’s only _him_ making you feel this way. He’s doing something to you, something that isn’t right, and we need to stop him. _I_ need to stop him! Before he does something completely –“

“Hold on a minute! Stop right there!” Remus had an urge to shake Harry into submission, but settled for putting his clenched fists on his hips. “He hasn’t done anything to me I haven’t wanted him to do. And what business is it of yours, anyway?”

“What business? You’re my friend, Remus!”

“Yes, I’m your friend,” Remus agreed, nodding his head. “But I’m also Severus’s lover. I can be both, you know. They’re not mutually exclusive.”

“That’s not the point,” Harry said, folding his arms again.

“How did you find out anyway?” Remus asked, a puzzled frown on his face. “Who told you?”

“Not you!” Harry shot back. “I had to find out by myself! I saw you in the hall. I saw you talking to Dumbledore. I saw you _touch_ him, put your arm around him, _smile_ at him!”

“At Dumbledore?”

“NO! Damn it, Remus,” Harry said, pounding his fist on the desk beside them. “Snape!”

“Professor Snape,” Remus corrected him.

“Snape!”

“He’s earned his title,” Remus said, now more dangerously calm. “And you owe him your respect if only for that.”

Harry scoffed. “As if he’s ever shown the slightest amount of respect to me!”

“You have to earn respect, Harry –“

“Well then he hasn’t ever earned mine! What do you think about that?”

“That you’re still a child in too many ways,” Remus said, shaking his head sadly.

Harry gaped at him. “I am not a child. I just defeated the greatest Dark wizard our world has ever known –“

“No, you haven’t,” Remus replied. “You’ve just defeated Voldemort. Grindelwald was a more terrible wizard, if you look at it objectively.”

Harry stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“It’s true,” Remus went on. “Grindelwald had whole countries rallied behind him. Armies, not just two or three dozen British wizards. Grindelwald had his claws in Muggle affairs, too. You’ve heard of Hitler, I assume? He was Grindelwald’s partner of sorts. They had plans to rule the world together.” He shrugged. “I’d always heard Hitler was gay. Which is not to discount what you did do, Harry,” he hurried to add. “Voldemort had the potential to be just as powerful as Grindelwald, and had he focused his attentions on consolidating power instead of prolonging his life, he may very well have been. You did do us all a favor by stopping him. Don’t get me wrong and think I don’t know what you managed to pull off, and do not think I am not grateful you were successful. I am.”

“I’m still not a child.”

“I didn’t say you were, exactly. Just that you were ‘in many ways.’ You can’t separate who a man is and what he does from your preconceived notions of him. You’ve always disliked Severus and until you see him for what he truly is, you likely always will. That’s a child’s point of view.”

“I dislike him _because_ I see him for what he is,” Harry replied. “He’s mean, vindictive, vicious, petty and cruel. He’s also manipulative and he plays favorites.”

Remus nodded his head. “He’s been those things at times, yes,” he agreed. “But that’s not all he is. He’s also generous and kind, intelligent, gentle, tender, loving –“

“He’s just making you think he is! He’s got a spell on you. There’s really no other explanation for you taking off for six weeks just to be with him.”

“Isn’t there?” Remus asked, a playful smile on his lips. “Can’t you think of one?”

“You’re not going to tell me you’re in love with him or something!”

“I’m not?” Remus considered for a moment, then said as if to himself, “I was pretty sure I was.”

“You can’t be! Remus, it’s a spell. I’ll prove it to you.” Harry pulled out his wand, aimed it at Remus and before the other man could react, shouted, “Finite Incantatum!”

A stream of light shot out from the end of Harry’s wand, slammed into Remus’s chest, and shimmered across the other man’s body. There was a faint crackling as of a spell dissipating, and then Remus leaned against the edge of the desk. He put his hands over his face and began to shudder.

Harry put his wand away and took a step toward the other man. “Remus? It’s okay. It’ll all be okay.”

“Good gods, Harry,” Remus asked, his voice shaky. “What have you done?”

~~

In his office, Severus tried valiantly to concentrate on the essays instead of the low voices he could hear through the door. As the voices rose and lowered in volume, he could catch snatches of words. His name, for instance, was shouted a few times. Harry seemed to be trying to convince Remus of something about him, something involving Grindelwald, although he couldn’t imagine what _that_ could possibly be about.

And then someone cast a spell. The ward on the door glowed red in warning. Should he go investigate? Or stay here and pretend his alarms hadn’t gone off?

He put his quill down and crept to the door.

~~

“It’s all right, Remus,” Harry said, putting a comforting hand on Remus’s shoulder. “Let me take you to my room where you can have some privacy. We’ll sort through this together. It’ll be okay, I promise you. No one will hold it against you.”

Remus was shaking his head. “No, Harry, you don’t understand.” He lifted his face from his hands. His eyes were wet, but not from sorrow or shock, but… from laughter?

Truly alarmed, Harry reached again for his wand. “Remus, what is it?”

“Oh, put that away,” Remus said. “You didn’t break any spell on me, except one… and I really wish you had asked me first. I’d have told you not to. But no, you wouldn’t have believed me if I told you.” He sighed.

“What spell did I break?” As far as Harry could tell, nothing had changed.

“It’s not necessary for you to know. Suffice to say it is well and truly broken and I’d rather not go traipsing through the castle in this condition, if you don’t mind.”

“But…” Harry glanced at the office door.

Remus looked straight into Harry’s eyes. “Severus Snape has never put a love spell on me. He has not changed the Wolfsbane Potion, he has not cast the Imperius Curse on me, he is not blackmailing me or seeking revenge on my friends through me. We are together because we want to be and it honestly has nothing to do with you.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Then if it’s not any of those things, then it’s… Oh, Remus. You poor man.” He hoisted himself up to sit on the desk beside the other man.

Remus sat himself on the desk as well, wincing a bit as he did so. “Then it’s what, Harry?” he asked uneasily.

Somberly, Harry nevertheless smiled bravely at the other man. “You’re lonely.”

Remus blinked. “Well, not lately. Not for… almost three years now.” He smiled.

“Three years?”

“Mm-hm. Almost three years,” he clarified. “Somewhere around your birthday, in fact. It depends on which date you want to commemorate.” He chuckled. “Severus prefers a different date altogether, but I’m more of a traditionalist in that regard.”

“You got together almost three years ago?” At Remus’s nod, Harry went on, rather plaintively, “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“It wasn’t anyone’s business,” Remus said, knowing full well that ‘anyone’ to Harry meant Harry himself. “And we weren’t ready to share the news with people for a long time. A few found out on their own. Dumbledore, for instance, but you try keeping anything from him. See how you fare!” He laughed. “Over the years, various members of the Order figured it out. Sirius found out rather early, in fact. You remember when Severus came to the house that January to tell you about the Occlumency lessons? He and Sirius were fighting about it. I didn’t find out about that until later.”

Harry was silent for a long time. “But… why Snape?”

“Professor Snape,” Remus said wearily. “And don’t make me tell you again.”

“But why him? Surely there were others you were more interested in? Others you wanted to spend time with?”

He seemed to be hinting at something, Remus thought, but what? Aloud, he said only, “I’d long since sown my wild oats. Don’t think I’ve been virtuous and chaste all my life.”

Harry flushed a little. “No, I don’t think that. But… _him_? You can do better, Remus. Surely you know that?”

“Better? Better how?”

Frustrated he couldn’t seem to make his point, Harry decided to be blunt. “Better in almost every way. Everyone hates him, you know. He may be kind and sweet to you, but to everyone else, he’s poisonous. But to you, fine. He’s Mr. Perfect Gentleman. But don’t you deserve someone that everyone will be happy to see you with? Once this gets out, there’s going to be some pretty serious fallout and it’s all going to come down on you. They’re all going to wonder why you’re with him, what you see in him, and they’re not going to let you tell them ‘oh, he’s good to me’ and let that be the end of it! They’re going to know, just like I know, that he’s a bastard – an ugly bastard – and do their best to talk you out of it!”

Remus tried his best to hold his temper. Harry didn’t deserve to face the full brunt of it; the boy was only trying to help him. Surely, he told himself, he could be patient for that. “That is their choice, of course,” he said, his jaw tight. “But I will tell them the same bloody thing I am telling you. It’s none of their gods-damned business who I have in my bed.”

“But he’s not good enough for you! You have to see that. You have to!”

Remus chuckled softly. “Harry, you have no idea how much you and Severus have in common. It’s rather ironic. You see, he doesn’t think he’s good enough for me, either.”

Harry blinked, startled, but he recovered quickly. “Then that just proves my point. If your ‘boyfriend’ doesn’t want to be with you, why are you with him?”

“I won’t discuss Severus’s problems with you.”

Harry laid a hand on Remus’s. “Then let’s discuss yours. Why do you insist on giving yourself to someone who doesn’t deserve you?”

Remus glanced at Harry’s hand on his and laughed lightly. “And who does deserve me? You?” Then he saw the expression in Harry’s face, the open, loving expression he’d seen before but never properly identified. He’d thought it was friendship, a bit of hero-worship, a bit of misplaced affection that should have gone to James or Sirius, but instead it was some kind of love.

Harry nodded, his eyes watering a bit. “Is that so wrong of me? To want to be with you? To want to… to love you? Spend time with you? The rest of my life? I could make you so happy, Remus, and no one would say a thing against it. If we were together, we could petition the Ministry to reverse its anti-werewolf legislation. We could prove to people that werewolves are not necessarily dangerous, that they’re not to be feared. We could build a life together and you’d never want for anything. When I turn eighteen, I get full access to the entire family vault in Gringott’s. There’s a fortune in there. You’d never have to wear shabby robes or beg for a meal again. You could live like a king!”

Remus listened to Harry’s recitation with a growing sense of alarm. “Hold on, there! When have I ever had to beg for a meal? And the last time I wore ‘shabby robes’ was when I was a teacher here, and that was because I didn’t have the opportunity to buy new ones before I had to report for duty. Harry, I am not the penniless beggar you take me for. I have funds of my own, a home of my own in London, and a job there. I don’t need your charity.”

“It wouldn’t be charity,” he said. “I would marry you. It’d become half yours.”

His first marriage proposal. Remus had to smile. “That’s awfully kind of you, but –“

“It’s not kindness!” Harry insisted. “It’s no less than you deserve.”

“ _But_ my heart is otherwise engaged. I do not love you, Harry. Not like that. I am flattered, of course, by your enthusiastic attentions, but I am not going to dump Severus for you. I am sorry to hurt you, but… that’s just how it is.” He shrugged helplessly.

“You think I’m a child,” Harry said with a petulant frown. “Well, let me prove to you I’m a man.”

With that, Harry slid off the table and pushed his way between Remus’s thighs. He put one hand on the back of Remus’s head, the other on his waist, and dove in with his mouth half-open to kiss the struggling man. He didn’t let go of Remus until he had thoroughly plundered the lycanthrope’s mouth.

“Well?” he asked, pulling back a bit.

“Harry…” Remus said weakly. Suddenly, Harry took one of those hands and drew it down to his crotch where his cock pulsed heatedly. 

“Does that prove anything to you?” Harry asked, his eyes drowsy and his voice husky with desire.

In return, Remus’s voice was a deadly growl. He didn’t want to hurt the boy, but he put his hands on Harry’s chest and pushed him. “Get off me, Harry. _Step back._ ” Harry stumbled and fell, landing on his arse.

Remus got up and moved to stand on the other side of Severus’s desk. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts, so Harry remained silent on the floor, watchful and waiting. Then Remus turned to face him, his eyes cold.

“Don’t you _ever_ do that to me again, do you understand?”

“Wh-what?”

“I do not want you to try to kiss me ever again!” He pounded a fist on the desk. Severus’s demonstration cauldron jumped a little. “I do not want you to make any sexual overtures to me of any kind. _Do you understand?_ I do not want you like that. I never will. You are a _child_ , Harry. I am a man. An adult. My desires run strictly to other _adult_ men and right now, only toward Severus Snape. Severus Snape is _not you_ , so you do not get to kiss me! Is that clear?”

“I don’t get it,” Harry said, sitting helplessly on the floor. “I’m offering you something you can’t get from him. I’m a virgin, Remus! I’m young and I’m handsome and I’m rich and I only want you and you can’t say the same about him!” He pointed toward the office door.

Remus nodded condescendingly. “And if those were the things most important to me, yeah. I’d be all over it. But I’m not.”

Harry smirked. “So you admit he’s ugly.”

Remus leaned forward, bracing himself on the desk. “I can admit no such thing. In my eyes, he’s the most beautiful creature in the world.”

Harry’s eyes almost bugged out. “How can you say that? You’ve seen his nose.”

“And I’ve seen his body,” Remus said. “His pale, perfect body. He’s got these cinnamon nipples that get all pebbly when I just _blow_ on them –“ he blew a short stream of air in Harry’s direction “-and he’s got this delightful happy trail from his navel to his cock and when I lick it, he squirms in the most elegant way. His legs are long and lean and when they wrap around me, I feel like a king. And when I wrap my legs around him, I _know_ I am. But you know the best thing about his body?” Remus held one cupped hand in front of Harry’s face. “He’s got these…” His mouth worked soundlessly. 

Harry looked almost sick. He knocked his head against the first student table. “No, no,” he muttered. “This isn’t right. It can’t be! You were supposed to be mine. I loved you!”

Realizing he had probably gone too far in his attack on Harry, Remus stood up straight and lost the ferocious expression. “I realize you think you love me, but the truth is, you don’t.”

“How can you say that?” A tear spilled from the corner of Harry’s left eye. He brushed it away angrily.

“Because if you did,” Remus said, “if you truly loved me, you would be happy that I am happy with Severus. My happiness would be all that mattered.”

“Huh. Right. And if _he_ came to you and said he’d fallen in love with someone else, you’d be happy for him?”

Remus nodded. “If he was happy with that other person, yes. I’d be sad, don’t get me wrong, and it would hurt me terribly, and I’d probably put up a hell of a fight, but ultimately, I wouldn’t stand in the way of his happiness. It’s more important to me than my own, you see.”

They were silent again for a long time.

~~

What are they doing in there, Severus wondered. While they had been arguing, Severus’s emotional state had alternately soared and plummeted through the floor. Remus loved him! That had to be what he meant when he said that his heart was ‘otherwise engaged.’ But then, Harry had insulted him, called him names like ‘ugly bastard’ and Remus hadn’t exactly contradicted him.

But he expected Remus to be honest and if Remus were going to be honest, then he couldn’t say that Severus was handsome. He just wasn’t. But Remus had listed a number of other things he found attractive about him of a physical nature, and that had been nice. It was one thing for Remus to praise certain aspects of his body, quite another to overhear those aspects praised to someone else!

It hurt him to think that others would be coming to Remus, interrogating him, maybe trying to set him up with other, more handsome wizards. It was an insult to Severus, but one he had better prepare for, if Harry was any indication. It was an insult to Remus as well, he suddenly realized, for they would be discounting the man’s ability to make his own decisions.

And when Harry had kissed Remus – for that must be what had happened – Severus had been prepared to rush out into the classroom and demand satisfaction, except that Remus had quite handily defended his own honor. It was… strangely pleasing to know that Remus had not enjoyed Harry’s attentions.

Now they were silent again. Severus wondered if they’d both left the room. He didn’t think so, but rather than open the door to investigate, he decided to go back go his work. It was better for Remus to think he’d been working the entire time than to be proven a jealous and untrusting eavesdropper.

~~

“Then I guess that’s that,” Harry said finally. “There’s nothing I can say to convince you you’re better off without him?”

Remus hesitated before answering. He did not want to completely demolish the young man’s heart. He had acted out of a sense of love, after all, and that deserved to be rewarded. “Harry, I appreciate your feelings for me and I am flattered, but I honestly think you would be better off pursuing someone closer to your own age. Go out and have some fun. Date around. Find someone who can love you like you deserve to be loved and invite us to the wedding. I care for you, Harry, like a nephew. Please don’t think that because I don’t love you that I don’t want to still be a part of your life.” He walked over to Harry, holding his hand out to help the boy stand up.

Harry stiffened at those last words. He sneered at Remus and said, smacking the offer of help away, “What if I don’t want to be a part of _yours_ , hm?”

“You don’t mean that –“

Harry stood up. “Like hell I don’t! As long as you’re with him –“ he flung his arm out in the direction of Severus’s office “-you’ll never be a part of my life!”

“Harry!”

But the young man had turned on his heel and stormed out of the office.

“Harry!!”

And he was gone.

Remus stood at the desk, stunned. How did it all go so wrong? How could he have missed Harry’s infatuation? How could he have been so completely blind? The adrenaline that had risen with his anger began to fade. He felt slightly ill and his limbs felt weak. He went to Severus’s office door and knocked softly.

“Enter.”

~~

Remus shut the door behind him, relieved to see that Severus still sat at his desk grading papers. He smiled at the sight of the lanky hair falling forward over that beloved visage. “Busy?”

Severus grunted a reply.

“Did you hear any of that?”

Severus slowed his written commentary, then set the quill back in its holder. “Some,” he admitted. “You did get quite… vocal.”

“Harry was pretty upset.” He leaned against the door.

“He’ll get over it.”

“Maybe. Seems he fancies himself in love with me.”

Severus sat back in his chair and regarded his lover calmly. “You are a handsome man with a reputation for kindness. Who wouldn’t be attracted to you?”

“Why, thank you,” Remus said with a smile. He paused then said, “He went so far as to kiss me.”

Severus waited, motionless.

“Don’t you want to know what happened after that? What I did? What it felt like? Anything?”

“I assume you will inform me of what I need to know when I need to know it.”

Flustered, Remus could only stare a little, then say, “Oh.”

“Is there something I should know?”

“You mean about Harry?”

“Or anyone else.”

“Just that he’s very angry with me,” Remus said. “And that it’s either you or him in my life. And he cancelled out that corking spell you cast on my bum and all your semen from this morning ran down my thigh.” He shrugged. “That’s about it.” Then he frowned. “And he’s a bit of a sloppy kisser.”

The sour feeling in Severus’s stomach eased up a bit at that. He even managed a smirk. “Is that right?”

“Mm-hm,” he said. “Uses too much tongue.”

“He had his tongue in your mouth?” _And you didn’t bite it off_ was his unspoken addition to that question.

“Mm-hm. And I told him in no uncertain terms he was never to do that again.” Remus smiled tenderly. “My lips are for your personal use only.”

“I… see.” It was what he wanted to hear, but it did not completely ease the tension in his body. “Well, I imagine he’ll not be the first to try and convince you of the error of your ways. I wonder if they’ll all try kissing you as part of their arguments?”

Remus laughed. “That would be interesting! But no,” he said, “I really don’t think so. This was an isolated event, I’m sure. And once word gets around, I imagine people will either be happy for us or will ignore us. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I didn’t start up with you in an effort to be liked by everyone. I just wanted to be liked by you.”

A response seemed to be in order, so Severus replied, “You have succeeded in that aim. Congratulations.”

Remus laughed again. He pushed himself off the door and moved to stand beside Severus. He leaned against the desk, ran a hand over Severus’s head to cup his cheek fondly. “This is one reason I love you so much,” he said. “Your dry wit.”

He leaned forward to kiss him, but Severus pulled back. “You love my wit? How delightful. I think my wit returns your feelings.”

Severus grinned, tilting his face toward Remus to retrieve that kiss, but it was Remus’s turn to pull back. “Yes, I love your wit,” he said. His hand was still cupping Severus’s cheek, and he gently stroked his thumb across the man’s bottom lip. “But more than that. I love _you_. I love everything about you from your snarky verbal assaults to your penchant for late-night sex romps.”

Severus’s grin disappeared. He pushed his chair away from his desk so he could regard Remus properly. “You’ve… never said anything like that before.”

“I know,” Remus said with a sigh. “And I should have. It’s been… hard to find the right time, the right circumstances.”

“I shouldn’t think it would be so hard,” Severus replied with a nervous gesture. “You just say them, regardless of where you are or what you might be doing. Why make a fuss?”

Amusement sparkled in his eyes as Remus said, “You’re right. So why haven’t you said anything?”

Severus stood up and paced away from his desk. “That is… different.”

“Because you don’t love me?” Remus aimed for lightheartedness, although he felt a stabbing sensation in his gut. No! his brain informed him, he does love you! He hasn’t said anything because… of something else. Don’t know what it is yet, but there’s a reason. It’s likely going to be a silly reason, but to him it’ll be compelling enough. Wait for it…. wait for it…

Severus stopped pacing when he reached the opposite end of the room. “It is… different because… bugger this,” he muttered. He turned around. “If I had spoken first, there was every chance you would react negatively. Look at what happened with Potter out there. He tells you he’s in love with you and you’re ‘flattered’. If I had come to you under the same circumstances, if you were in a relationship with him, for example, and I came to you to say ‘come away with me instead, Remus, because I love you,’ you would have been repulsed. You would have come in here to laugh about it with Potter.”

Appalled at this example, Remus turned to fully face him. “Why? Why would I do that?”

“Because it is flattering when an attractive person has feelings for you and quite the opposite when an unattractive person does. I know this! I’ve seen it played out time and again. When a pretty girl liked Black, for instance, he strode around this castle like he had built it himself. But when it came out that an ugly girl liked him, he was embarrassed so much he told her in the middle of Charms class to leave him alone!”

“I remember that. But Sirius is not me –“

“It’s human nature,” Severus replied. “It’s only good for someone who has status to like you. That’s flattering. For someone like me to…” He shook his head, looked away. “It’s an insult.”

Remus stared at Severus. “I would be so proud to know you returned my feelings. It wouldn’t matter what anyone else thought of you or me. Besides,” he chuckled, “what kind of status in the wizarding world do you really think I have?” After a long pause, he asked quietly, “ _Do_ you return my feelings?”

Severus’s reply was nothing more than a quick nod of his head. The man looked miserable, however, and Remus’s heart hurt to see him in obvious distress. He hurried to Severus’s side and carefully lifted his chin so he could see his face more clearly.

He’s crying, Remus noted with surprise. Indeed, Severus’s eyes were wet and his cheeks glistened faintly. Remus quickly wiped them dry with his thumbs. “Hush, love,” he whispered, kissing one cheek. “Shhh...” He kissed the other cheek. “I love you, Severus. I love you, I love you, I love you and I wish I had told you from the first. I’m so sorry.” He kissed him gently on the lips once, twice, a third time.

“Don’t…” Severus whispered. “Don’t apologize. There’s no need to.” He rested his hands on Remus’s hips, completing the almost-embrace.

“But I hurt you.” He kissed him again, cradling his head in his hands.

“You didn’t hurt me!”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I think… I think I’m… _happy_.”

~~

Much later that night, the two men lay quietly in Severus’s bed, their earlier bouts of passion spent. All that remained for them was the peace and protection of their self-created sanctuary.

“When you leave here,” Remus said, drawing a line up the middle of Severus’s chest to his throat and then back again. “I’m going to introduce you to my friends in London. They’ll like you. You’ll like them.”

“I’m looking forward to starting a new life,” Severus replied. “As long as you’re in it.”

Remus nestled closer to his lover’s warm body. “Just try getting rid of me.”

“I shall do no such thing.”

“Then we’ll be together forever,” Remus said with a smile. “Because I’m never letting you go, either.”

He thought he had fallen asleep, but then he heard a soft whisper, “I love you.”

Grinning, he slid his arm around his waist. “I love you too, Severus. I love you, too.” 

 

THE END (for now)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The careful reader will note this was written after 'Order of the Phoenix' but before 'Half-Blood Prince' was released. Harry Potter appears in this final chapter somewhat out of character unless you squint. After posting this story the first time, I was most often asked about the corking spell to which Lupin refers in this final chapter; hopefully the edits made it more clear what was going on. Thank you all so much for reading!


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